The Beast and His Belle
by Falafel Waffel
Summary: His whole life was a masquerade. It wasn't until he met the outspoken Katniss Everdeen that Peter "Peeta" Mellark really began living.
1. Enchanted

**Welcome! Welcome! Welcome! This story is somewhat inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey but I tried to keep the characters as in character as possible which means the kinky fuckery is toned down some… But we haven't gotten there yet! Or have we?**

**A few things in this story violate the laws of cannon… I'll let you find them out the fun way! I'm writing this mostly for fun. Also I'm rambling.**

* * *

"This… Is…" Madge puts her foot on my rump and pulls the corset I'm being imprisoned in even tighter, "Ridiculous!" my back gives a sickening crack as the pressure aligns my spine, "Damn that felt good…" I purr.

"Please, we should be honored to be invited to the Benefactors Masquerade Ball…" she grumbles as I step into my gown. It looked much like Belle's from Beauty and the Beast of which I had the lead role in NYU's production this year… Definitely not the reason I'm wearing this dress, it's the only thing Madge owns that's large enough to fit me though our crappy eating in the last few weeks earned a few extra pounds around my stomach and unfortunately none in the breast area.

Mayor Undersee, Madge's father, was invited to this thing… But is "occupied" so he gave the tickets to Madge along with a generous donation to the school. Perpetually single Madge refused to invite anyone BUT me and guilt tripped me until I agreed. I was going to regret this night in a stuffy dress, choking corset and pinchy shoes in a confined space with big money.

"Should I put my hair up, or down Sleeping Beauty?" she spun around in her sleek off the shoulder pink gown.

"Leave it down, it's curly today, very sexy and fierce…" her hair was up in a very tight bun that must have given her a face lift though I couldn't tell.

I thumbed the mask on her dresser, lovely and silver with intricate glitter designs around the eyes and a black silk strap. Mine was a little fancier pale blue with gold lace patterns around the eyes and a gold feather to the side.

"The limo's here, ready Belle?" she holds out her arm and I pick up my "fancy night" purse, enough room for the ID, cell phone, a few bucks, my metro card, and lip gloss… and a condom. Who knows?

"Why of course Aurora, ready to find our Prince Charming's?" I joke lifting my skirt so as we walk out of her SoHo apartment, Madge came from money, old old money, another reason I was willing to go with her, she knew how to behave in fancy places and would definitely not let me act like an ass. I'm from the backwoods of Upstate New York at NYU on about ten different scholarships, and paying for my shitty Greenwich Village efficiency by tending bar and tutoring freshmen English students and some prissy high school Upper East Side brats.

"Mademoiselle's," our driver opened the door to the limo and bowed as we slid in, me stuffing the poufy yellow skirt as I tugged at the black silk profile choker I always wore. There's a hint of sarcasm or amusement in his voice… I like him, "There is a bottle of Champagne courtesy of Mayor Undersee on ice. Shall I open it for you?"

And here we were, the Mayor of New York's daughter and a urchin from a trailer park in the woods sipping fine champagne on our way to a masquerade ball in honor of the Mellark Family donating more cash than I could ever dream of making to New York University's School of Arts…

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," Madge sips at her bubbly.

I cock an eyebrow, "Oh Miss Undersee we simply must change that," I wave my gloved hand dismissively and we chuckle, "So where is this party?" I ask finishing off my glass.

"Mister Mellark's penthouse, it's on the Upper East side near my folks if you want to crash there as well…" she waggles her eyebrows as she goes to tie her mask.

Madge Undersee is like the Barbie I could never afford, blonde and perfect with a million fancy toys and accessories, I was doll with the sewn on clothes that was passed down from older to younger sister, "We'll see, I have work in the morning. I have to go interview the stuffy host of this shindig." I look out the window as drab apartments give way to beautiful homes and then even larger buildings with spacious apartments and luxurious penthouses.

The car slows outside of a tall white building, very old, very rich right across from Central Park. Prime NYC real estate.

A man waited outside and opened the door for us, "Evening sweetheart," I bristled as he called me sweetheart but took his hand, stepping out of the car in my ridiculous dress. I was more of a jeans and boots kind of gal.

"Hey Mister Abernathy," Madge smiled and the man kissed first my hand then her's.

* * *

I rocked on my heels, spun around and managed to put a good chunk of my hair up in a bun so I actually _looked_ like Belle the rest spilled behind me, hanging in loose curls, "Well, they can't forget why _you're_ here," Madge smiled, primping me as the smooth elevator lifted us to the top floor of this gorgeous old building looking over Central Park. Rent must be in the billions a month… Ok, major over exaggeration.

Mister Abernathy was our guide upstairs, not letting us out of his sight and helping me tie my mask so it was snug, "There you go sweetheart," he punched in a code and the gold elevator doors opened.

To say there were a lot of people in "Mister Mellark's Penthouse" was an understatement. The one great room was packed with ball gown clad tuxedo wearing New Yorkers whose identity was masked by rich silk and leather masquerade masks.

"Is your dad here?" I whisper loudly over the music, beautiful classical music perfect for a lovely waltz.

She shakes her head, "My mom may…" she gets on her heels, "I don't hear her annoying laughter, coast is clear," I wanted a drink but she took my hand and lead me to a crowded dance floor, "Come on Beauty!"

I loved dancing, absolutely LOVEDfeeling music flowing through me, the eyes were on Madge and I waltzing around giggling like fiends until a bubbly blonde came up to us, "Excuse me, they're setting up the dance auction," I eyed up the girl, no older than eighteen she had a mane of blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Prim Mellark I knew her from the Times, her budding relationship with Rory Hawthorne was local gossip, which in NYC means in the paper, the local news. Poor thing.

Madge gave me the 'look' the I-signed-you-up-for-something-without-your-knowledge look, "Come on Katniss! It'll be fun!" she pouts, "It's for charity, for the scholarship and the school!"

I sigh and am led away from the dance floor, "S-sorry," I stammer bumping into a blonde with curious and soft blue eyes.

"Please, it's my fault," he grins, his strong hand lingering on my shoulder. I want to introduce myself but the words don't come out. I don't say anything, just stammer incoherently before Madge, my saving grace pulls me to where Prim waits.

I take one last look at the silver mask and blue eyes watching my capture and forced servitude.

* * *

_This is so degrading…_ I think over and over, but it's for NYU… Which doesn't need the money, but more importantly it goes for the scholarship that pays for most of my schooling, or paid. Sometimes I forget I graduate in two weeks.

"And next we have our lovely Evening Primrose. Just eighteen she will be attending NYU in the fall, she's fluent in French, Mandarin, and is an exceptional artist, as many of you have already bid on her artwork," she giggles curtsies.

There isn't much of a bidding war on Prim, even she's too young for some of these business men who definitely have wives just a year her senior.

"Next we have the exquisite Margaret," and this is where the auction gets creepier, "She's a wonderful at the waltz as you have all seen with her partner. No two for one deals here though," my cheeks redden, "And the daughter of the Mayor of New York."

Thirty grande… a dance with Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter, goes for more than I will make this year, and next year… Tips included.

"Last but not least we have the exquisite Katniss, as you can see still in character form her performance of Beauty and the Beast at New York University," there's an applause and I freeze, wanting to dash but instead I grab my skirt and curtsied deep, "A journalism major so watch what you say with this one in the room," there's a chuckle.

He doesn't even finish, "Fifteen thousand!" a burly man with dark hair starts.

"Twenty!" a voice in the back challenges.

_What I could do with that money… I could move it of that shitty apartment…_ I zone out and when Madge elbow's me we're at fifty thousand.

I freeze for real this time. That would put a good chunk in my student loans…

"Sixty thousand, going once! Going twice! Sold to the man in the silver mask!" he steps forward and I gulp.

The man I bumped into, the one I couldn't find my wits around.

_Shit! Shit!_

"Thank you everyone! Checks can be made out to myself!" I hurry off the makeshift stage to meet my 'prince charming' the chauvinistic ass who bid to probably keep his hand on my ass while we dance for a photo op.

I can't really fault him, if he participated during the last four years he's definitely paid for my schooling in some way, "Not feeling like running me down are you?" he smirks his thin lips turning up just barely.

"Perhaps," I cross my arms over my chest, trying to cover my obvious cleavage, "Do you have a name, sir?"

His finger traced the bottom of his lower lip, "For now, you can just call me sir, I don't like laying down all my cards so soon… We've only just met," he reaches over and pulls two glasses of champagne, "Here m'lady. Have you found your Beast?"

I reach up and touch one of his blonde curls, "A little shaggy…" I murmur as his blue eyes follow my ever move, scrutinizing my actions, "Perhaps," I take a sip of champagne, "I haven't had enough to drink to decide…" I look over to Madge who has on that stars truck dumbfounded look she gets around hot guys.

"If I offend you, I won't see this in the Times will I?" my Beast asks studying me, I tug up my dress and fumble with my collar chewing on my thumb all in a few seconds.

"Why would you? I'm a student and the New York Times is a little out of my league… They want people with experience," I nudge the ground with my silver heel. Ugh could this get any awkward? I don't even know his name.

God he is gorgeous, broad shoulders, light blonde stubble around his chin… I can even forgive his scruffy blonde hair for those sea blue eyes.

"Miss?"

"Wha?" I jump out of my staring at him and shift awkwardly feeling the heat between my legs… Would it be sleazy to try and jump his bones? He did just pay a year's tuition to dance with me… Definitely prostitution.

"I asked if I was boring you Belle," he takes my gloved hand and kisses it, "I can leave you be if you wish."

"N-no!" I gasp, the stuttering coming back, I kick myself, "This isn't really…" I think I don't want to insult him, "my scene."

"What is your scene Belle?" he leans back resting on the wall as I sip champagne wishing it was Vodka or Beer and like that a waitress comes by with real cocktails on her tray.

"Do you know what a honkytonk is?" I ask quickly, maybe I could drum up conversation about that, teach him something… Seem interesting.

_Take me out of this dress and ravage me._ I tell my brain to shut up, shifting a little as I dampen between my legs.

His eyes light up with curiosity, "I've heard the song…"

I wave, "No, no, nothing like that. Just basically… a bar with country music and southern rock, cheap booze, great dancing…" I move in a little, "Not your scene?" I ask quietly, smirking wanting to pull of his mask, lay eyes on my buyer…

"Not at all, maybe you could show me one day," he murmurs and I freeze.

"Oh my Beast… You're going to have to try harder than that…" he takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor.

He takes my right hand in his left and rests his hand on my waist, not my back, not my ass, my waist. I shiver at his touch, though it's through layers of silk and the corset and whatever else dresses are made of I want to groan… It ignites my fire in ways I never thought possible.

_Take me here… Please for the love of god…_ I try to kick my horny subconscious, so it's been a while?

I barely listen to the music, he's such a fluid dancer moving like water where as I clumsily step on his feet once or twice adjusting my grip on my poufy skirt.

"You're a lovely dancer," he murmurs his lips dangerously close to mine.

_Just kiss me you daft man!_ I tell my subconscious to shut up again, I've only just met the guy…

"Please, I've scuffed your thousand dollar shoes at least four times already," he smirks and squeezes my waist just a little, the pressure earning a deep groan from within me. I look up at his shocked expression.

"Four hundred Belle, how much did this dress cost you?" he quips.

"Free, Miss Undersee couldn't let me come to this function dressed in anything less than the best."

"But of course," he squeezes my waist again, getting the same response, "Belle you have the most graceful step, though you're not used to someone being in front or in charge… Where did you learn?"

I realize that the main point of his statement is the 'in charge' and I stiffen… Learn?

"I… I hunted back home, before I came to the City. To help feed my mom before she…" I look away, no. _No Katniss, don't tell this man anything, you don't even know his name_, I cough and force a smile, "Before I came to New York. You learn to tread lightly pretty quick."

The dance ends, he can tell I'm bothered, "Please, Belle, come," he offers his hand, "Let's get away from the crowd I can tell you're upset and perhaps you should lay off the drinks," he scolds as I sip at the cocktail I was given it hits me even harder since I haven't eaten yet today, "And never accept a drink from a stranger Belle," his words are full of concern and caution and… Possession? Pretty sure I spoke to my cat like this once about not eating out of his own cat box.

"Thank you, Beast…" I take his hand, _Ravish me you confusing ass_.

He leads me past where Madge and her prince still dance and she gives me a happy grin. She knows how to behave at places like this, I'm being led away by a man who paid a small fortune to get one dance with me. He leads me through a door and flicks a switch.

Five glasses of champagne, and a cocktail and a half and I was woozy, not drunk, merely buzzed, "Where are we?" I ask my heels clicking on the deep wood floor.

"The one place that's off limits to guests," he smirks.

"…and that is?"

"The owner of this fine apartment's bedroom."

I gasp ready to turn heel and leave, this is disgustingly inappropriate, "We should leave, I don't want to upset the person signing away his fortune to my school," I blush and my thumbnail goes to my mouth.

"Please, he's a close personal friend of mine…" my beast comes to me and takes my gloved hand, kissing the knuckles as I sway a little from the drink, "My dear sweet Belle, sit," the first part of the room is a sitting area, a large black leather couch seated in front of a flat screen. Instead I make my move.

I stand on my toes and catch his lips, they're unresponsive at first before his hands find the side of my face, I expect him to remove the mask but he doesn't.

_He doesn't want to know who you are idiot. What are you doing? A one night stand! _My subconscious scolds me. I tilt my head as he deepens the kiss and lowers me to the couch. The leather is soft and supple and refreshing on my heated skin. He pulls away and kneels in front of me to take off my shoes.

"Better?" I nod, giggling as his thumbs rub my sweaty foot, "You have a beautiful laugh, princess."

"Oh kind Beast, I'm not a princess, merely a poor girl with Stockholm Syndrome…"

His blue eyes light up, "That isn't all there is to the story, is there?"

I blush, Beauty and the Beast was always one of my favorite movies, "No, I'm a little too harsh on the story… It's a beautiful tale of a common woman falling for her Prince though he looks nothing like the beautiful man he is inside," I pull at the fingers of my gloves, trying to stop them but my Beast stops me, "She falls for him for what's in his heart," I cover my own heart with my hands, "But forgive me… I'm getting sentimental," I smirk.

He takes my hand and kisses the knuckles, "What do you want, Belle?"

The word slips from my lips without thinking. The one word that could change my life forever.

"You…" I whisper ignoring my subconscious asking me who I was… What kind of woman I was, I didn't know this man, I didn't know if he was diseased. I knew I couldn't get pregnant, a little device I had inserted in me three months ago kept that from happening.

His hands mine, our fingers lacing as he pulls me from the couch into the bedroom, "Are you sure this is ok?" I ask nervously, he just chuckles.

"Please, the owner of this Penthouse finds himself very well occupied this evening Belle, he won't even notice…" sex with a stranger on another stranger's bed.

At some point he had lost his suit coat and my sloppy fingers go for his buttons on his dark blue waistcoat but he pushes my hands aside and takes off the waist coat, his dark blue tie, and shirt in one shot. He's so yummy, sculpted abdominals, just enough chest hair… I want to run my fingers through it. Soft and dark blonde, darker than the hair on his head. I reach for his mask, wanting to look upon his face but he pulls back.

"Ah my sweet Belle, patients…" and he pulls met to him, sliding the sipper of my gown down, his index finger tracing the ties of my corset and the exposed bit before my garter belt, "Can you breathe in this?" he asks licking his top lip as the yellow fabric pools on the ground, I step away and look down at the corset.

"Yes," I hesitate wondering what I should call him, "…Sir…" I smirk, unable to call him Beast again without laughing.

I scratch at my calf with my toe, wanting to get out of the panty hose, "This is going to be very difficult with my pants on," I jump a little, his tone undecipherable before going for the supple leather belt and his button. I hesitate at his fly, his erection already making his pants taught.

_You did this to him. Go girl!_ My less horrified subconscious tells me as the zipper slides all the way down. He helps himself from his socks and four hundred dollar dress shoes before his arm wraps around my waist pulling me to him. My skin puckers to gooseflesh as his skillful fingers trace the gap between my corset and underwear, "Are you attached to these?" he asks pulling at the elastic on the white lace thong I wore.

"N-no…" I stammer.

His eyes light up and he slides his fingers down, getting dangerously close to my very damp and very ready sex before his other hand frees my waist and joins the other, tearing them apart. I gasp and look up at his amused smirk, "You told me you weren't attached to them," he slides a fingers through the wetness that has been gathering since I first bumped into him. My head rocks back and a throaty moan escapes from deep within me. No one's ever touched me like this before…

I get adventurous, reaching forward to stroke his erection through his dark boxers, his movement halts when I reach in and pull him free, "What are you doing?" he asks as I sink down, my grey eyes never leaving his deep blue ones, much deeper than when we first met.

I flick the tip with my tongue cautiously having only done this once or twice, there's a small drip at the end. He's the perfect mix of salty and sweet and I throw caution to the wind. Who cares if we're in his friend's bedroom? Who cares if he or she could barge in at any second?

I slowly take him in my mouth, my tongue running along his length, "Belle…" he groans, this is getting annoying… But if he won't tell me his name, why should he call me mine? I move back and forth along his length, "Sweet Belle, please…" he pushes me off him, and pulls me to my feet, kissing me deeply.

I moan into his mouth as his fingers slip into me and he walks us to the bed. The back of my legs hit the soft as satin sheets and I fall back expecting him to join me, but he doesn't. Instead he spreads my legs and pulls me to the very edge of the bed.

I close my eyes in anticipation but his nails dig into my flesh, "Vous êtes si belle…" he murmurs in perfect French, "Open your eyes…" I look up at him, the only thing he wears the beautiful silver mask where as I'm still in the tight corset, stockings and garter belt.

"Tell me your name," I purr up at him.

He just smirks and eases inside me, my hands grabbing for the dark sheets beneath us, "All in good time, my sweet Belle…" he halts once fully sheathed inside me allowing me to adjust, maybe he sees the discomfort in my face. It HAD been a while… Like two years.

"Just move," I pant trying to wrap my legs around him but his firm hands keep them spread wide leaving me very exposed. I try and ignore the patch of hair I left unattended for a few weeks.

His thrusts are cautious and forceful, enough that they would force me to the center of the bed if it weren't for strong hands holding me in place, "Touch yourself," he purrs blue eyes studying me, enjoying my shock but not missing a beat with his delicious thrusts, "Come on Belle… I can't hold out much longer and I want you to sing for me," cautiously I release my ironclad grip on the sheets and move one hand down to my heated sex. My eyes lock with his as I slowly rub my index and middle finger around my clitoris in slow circles before my movements get hungrier. The beautiful classical music keeps the sound of our fucking from the rest of the room but surely someone knows what shameful acts we're doing. Two strangers dirtying some poor guy's bed…

"Mmm…" I feel the hot coil deep within me tighten even more.

"That's it babe…" he purrs, slamming into me, "Sing for me…"

His words are enough, the coil springs through and my back lifts from the bed and I cry as my orgasm ripples through me, the relief and pleasure spreading from the epicenter to my scalp.

"There we go…" he coo's after his own orgasm. My mind glazes over, the alcohol, the AMAZING sex, the earth shattering orgasm… I'm spent.

My Beast pulls me to the pillows at the top of the bed, his skilled fingers untying the strap on my mask and pulling it from my face, "Perfect…" he murmurs.

"Wait… Madge!" I fight to keep my eyes open as he pulls the covers up to my chin.

"I'll tell your friend you're staying the night, Abernathy will take you home in the morning, sleep… My sweet Belle…" there's a sorrow in his voice I ignore, his back is to me as the mask comes off.

_Stay awake… See his face…_

But my eyes won't listen, "By the way… My name is…"

* * *

**"...Cato". _Bleh_ could you imagine? More to come! More familiar faces, more smut, more drama llamas.**


	2. Hung Up

******As always, thanks for the reviews and alerts, and even some favorites. I'm still not 100% sure where this story is going, I know where they'll end up, but not how to get there. Hope you're ready for an interesting ride?**

* * *

"Mmmm…" I stretch paw for my buzzing alarm clock but instead of the usual location I find air. My eyes shoot open, "Where am I?" the bedroom is spacious, a deep grey blue with dark furniture and impeccably clean.

The previous night's events rush back and I feel the blood run from my cheeks, "Oh god…" I scramble to find my purse, my phone… Madge? Did she know? Did she get home ok?

Some friend I am. I rush from the bedroom, my corset and garter belt gone and replaced by only a baggy t-shirt, "Ah Miss, good morning!" an older woman smiles, "Would you care for some breakfast?" I scratch at the back of my head, the bun I had tied the night before gone and my hair braided. The only thing that I still had on from the night before was the choker.

"No thank you… I… um…" I need to run, get out of here before the owner of this lovely place emerges from whatever hole he's in to bitch me out. I'd throw his friend under the bus in a heartbeat. It was his idea!

"What time is it?" I finally ask.

"Quarter till eleven miss," she goes back to her work, cleaning the granite counter top.

My heart stops, "Where are my shoes, I need to get home?" I asked panicked, the only pair I had here are my heels form last night, "Wait where's my dress?"

The woman smiles, "Why mister Mellark sent it out for cleaning."

I blush and grab at my dark braid, "Where is Mister Mellark?" I ask curiously.

"At the office, Abernathy can take you home if you wish. Or you could stay Mister Mellark asked us to make you feel at home."

I bit my thumb nail, "No, I have…" crap. I had that stupid interview today, "Business downtown. I need to get back to my apartment."

"Haymitch!" the woman yells, "Little miss needs a ride!"

I pale, "No! I have my metro card, I can take the subway!" my hands go to my mouth fingers curled into my palm, knuckles on my lips. I don't want to be a bother.

"Miss, you don't have shoes," she chuckles.

I look down at my naked feet, "I have heels! It wouldn't be the weirdest thing on the subway," I remind them as I'm now joined by the waiting driver of the limo yesterday, Mister Abernathy.

"Come on sweetheart…" Ugh, this is so embarrassing… This whole situation! First the ball, then the auction, now my one night stand who didn't kick me out.

"Please, I could just take the train. It's fine," I show them my metro card, "I promise!"

"Mister Mellark would be displeased…"

* * *

"This is a dangerous part of town Sweetheart," Abernathy lectures from the front seat.

I cross my arms, "It's what I can afford, sure your boss never has to deal with that," I hop out of the car, "Please send your boss my apologies for taking up his bed last night, really, I was told it was ok," he seems amused, "And I'll return the clothes, he can send the dress and… everything else to Mayor Undersee's daughter. She'll get better use out of it."

"Sure thing sweetheart," he nods, "Don't forget your shoes," he holds them by the thin silver straps. I grab them from the open door, "Thanks…"

The sleek black SUV drives off into the busy New York street as I climb the stairs to my building. I live in an old row home that was turned into four apartments, mine being on the bottom where I can hear everything everyone does around me but it was cheap, really cheap.

"Home sweet home…" I mumble remembering the smell of the beautiful apartment, and of the man I just spent the night with… or did I? Did he abandon me in that bed and I was so gone the owner of the place couldn't wake me?

I take out my cell phone and call Madge.

"_Hey..."_ she seems guilty.

"Did you get home safe?" I ask opening my empty fridge. I'd have to remember to buy food, I laugh a little, if I had the money.

"_Yeah… Can I call you back later? I'm kind of…" _she giggles, "_Indisposed…"_

"Have fun Margaret…" I tease stripping off the t-shirt and now shorts I had stolen from this mystery man. I take a deep whiff of the shirt, sweet vanilla and cinnamon mixed with… just general man smell.

"Mmm…"

My phone vibrates.

_Belle,_

_Abernathy told me you arrived home safe… Or as safe as someone can in your neighborhood. I'll have the dress sent to Miss Undersee as you requested, please keep the shirt and shorts as long as you wish._

'_Beast'_

The man I screwed has my phone number.

I toss the phone onto the couch and duck back in the bathroom to wash the night away… and this weird morning…

"Coy little bastard…" I grumble filling a chipped glass with tepid water chugging it and some advil, "Please, he's a close personal friend," I mimic the Beast's words from last night. I pull on the nicest clothes I own, a pencil skirt, white blouse and matching black jacket. I was interviewing Mister Mellark, Head of Mellark Enterprises about his donation to NYU.

My phone began ringing, _Cray_. Good not my one night stand.

"Yes boss?" I ask checking my reflection, I'd need to get to the tube ASAP if I'd make it in time.

"How's my favorite little kitten?" my skin crawled, I must have been the one waitress Cray hasn't nailed.

"Busy not being yours," I snap.

"We could always change that…" I slip into my heels and grab my real purse and keys before heading onto the busy New York streets.

"I'd rather not…" I tell him, closing my building's door.

"Me either, it's more fun to watch you squirm," I squeeze my eyes shut reminding myself over and over again how much I need this job, "Besides, I can't wait to see you tonight, we really need you, Yankees or Met's game, you know I don't pay attention to that shit, but we had a few call outs."

"Fine, sure, I've got something down town for school then I'll be over once I change. I can stay until close." I offer, that was two am. The train I usually take would be shut down by the time I got out which would be well past three but tomorrow was Sunday, my one day off so I didn't mind going out of my way and walking ten city blocks.

* * *

The receptionist is a well-dressed redhead, looking unhappy to be here on a Saturday but I guess Mister Mellark believes in a six day work week? I hated being in lower Manhattan Monday through Friday it was full of stuffy businessmen, Saturday and Sunday? Tourists to gawk at the World Trade Center site.

"Hi, I'm Katniss Everdeen, I'm here to see Mister Mellark?"

She smiles sweetly, "Ah yes, he's waiting," I swallow, great first impression. My finger found my profile choker, the black silk that always caresses my skin… My safety net, "Follow me miss Everdeen."

The woman knocks on the door, "Sir, Miss Everdeen is here to see you," she cracks the door and instead of an old voice, I'm greeted by a very familiar, very young voice.

"Well let her in," he's at his desk, a deep dark rich wood similar to the one at his home and as before my tongue goes dry, "Miss Trinket?" his tone is dismissive, wanting her gone. She nods and closes the door behind me.

Does he recognize me? Do I say anything?

"I was expecting to be interviewing your father mister…"

"Peter Mellark," I nod, "Sit," his tone is kind but as always it seems to have a commanding tone, he's not one to cross, "My brothers call me Peeta but that's due to a rather annoying lisp Primrose had when she was a child…"

I sink down into a soft leather chair, my fingers finding my necklace again before I go to my second coping mechanism, chewing on my thumb.

Do I say something? Thank him for the sex?

_Way to go Everdeen, got yourself in a real pickle here._

"Listen about last night, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry I had a lot to drink and-" _Shut up mouth, brain please tell mouth to listen for real this time._

He smirks, his fingers folding together, elbow's resting on the table his chin cradled in the next woven by his fingers, fingers that skimmed my heated flesh.

"I trust you slept well… Belle?"

"Katniss," I correct, "My name is Katniss."

"Oh, that was a real name? I thought they were going with the flower theme," I don't wish to delve into the meaning behind my name.

I take out my notebook, questions suggested by the NYU magazine written down. I was only here because I was the editor and I now had to remind myself this over and over again.

"So you were expecting my father?" he asks, "Clearly Miss Everdeen you haven't done any research," he's smirking. Cocky little fuck!

"Forgive me, my only concern is your donation to my school."

He nods a little, finger rubbing at his lower lip, a lip that I tasted last night, "Are you hungry?" he asks suddenly.

_Starved… I haven't eaten in a day or so, not like you'd know what hunger was like…_

"I haven't had lunch, if you're asking."

He gets up from his desk picking up his suit coat, "Good, I hate being in this damned office especially on a Saturday, we'll do the interview at lunch," he almost has a childlike amusement about him.

"I can't afford lunch," I murmur accidently.

"Please, my treat."

I narrow my eyes as he tells his driver we're ready, "People don't buy me things," I snap.

"It's just lunch, and after everything you drank last night I'm sure you need something in your system, besides, I could see your ribs last night, why you wore that painful corset is beyond me…" he cocks an eyebrow at my blush, "Though it was nice to look at," the fact of the matter was I was putting on weight. He holds out his hand, "Now, stop complaining and let me buy you lunch," I go to argue but just then my stomach rumbles earning a disapproving glare from Peter, or Peeta, or whatever his name is.

* * *

"And you started your own company… why?"

Peeta shrugged and brought the cloth napkin to his mouth, "I didn't like how they were running things, thought they could go about the whole 'green' thing better," I nod picking at the remnants of my pasta.

He brought me to a strange restaurant in the Upper East named Serendipity 3. The store front was a retro oddity shop that seemed to spill into the eating area, which was decorated with vintage clocks, stained glass lamps and tarnished mirrors giving it a strange 'fairy' vibe to it. Mister Mellark seemed almost out of place here but I wouldn't question a free meal… Especially going into a probably ten hour shift during some form of baseball game.

"I bought them a year or so back, got them on track," he grinned, "But money doesn't impress you, does it Miss Everdeen?"

"Money confuses me," I answer honestly, "Such a simple human construct and people walk over each other, kill each other, and suck up to each other over it," I shrug twirling pasta around my fork.

"But you're going to NYU, surely you aspire to make a decent living."

I chuckle, "Mister Mellark, I'm a journalism major. I'm going to hopefully get an internship at some newspaper who will eventually hire me so I can quit my crappy job at the sports bar I work at," he crosses his arms over his chest and nods.

"Journalism is boring, you're an intelligent, beautiful young woman, you should do something that can change the world, something you can have fun at."

Stab at my food, going for my tea nervously, "I like writing…" I answer honestly, "Like factual writing, not who which local celebrity or rich asshole is screwing," I snap my jaw closed and feel the blood rush to my cheeks, "N-no offence Mister Mellark, sir…" I look away but he chuckles.

"I've seen your play, have you ever thought of Broadway?"

Again I go for my drink, a nervous habit, I'm long since out of tea and settle for chewing ice, "You don't just walk onto Broadway and get a part, it would be nice but I'm not nearly good enough."

He seems unconvinced, "But we're not here to discuss my future, why did you donate fifteen million to the school?"

"For the same reason I spent sixty thousand dollars to dance with you, the same reason we're sitting here at lunch, because I can," I shudder a little, my eyes narrowing.

"Would you like me to put that in the article?"

"Do as you wish," he waves dismissively, "you _journalists_ are all the same, turning words until they say just what you want."

"I'm not like that, are you calling me a liar, Mister Mellark?"

He leans in, eyes narrow, have I made him mad?

"No, Miss Everdeen, I'm calling you a reporter, and giving you the same treatment as you've been giving me. When I was twenty-one I saw an opportunity and I took hold of it, now eight years later I'm CEO of the company _I _started… And it sure as hell was never handed to me. It was earned, by sixty hour work weeks and sacrifices."

I slink back, well played.

"Ok…" I clear my throat, "Maybe then, I should learn who Peter Mellark is?"

"Please, Belle, call me Peeta, only the newspapers and business partners call me Peter," I nod and rest my elbow on the table, my knuckles supporting my head, "But you can find out anything you want about me on the internet, it's called Wikipedia and Google, I've put my name in and for the most part the facts are accurate. Let me ask you a few questions."

I stiffen, "What could someone like you possibly want to know about someone like me?"

"Belle…"

"Katniss," I interrupt, "Why do you call me Belle? That's just a role in a play."

"It means pretty, attractive, shapely in French."

I blush and look away at a tarnished mirror, "I'm none of those things, but suit yourself."

"Sure, Miss Everdeen," he says evading my first name yet again, "Where are you from?"

"A small town on the border, Clayton? It's kind of a tourist trap in the summer, really shuts down in the winter," he nods soaking in my words.

"My parents have a house on one of the islands up there, beautiful area… What brings you to New York City though?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Miss Everdeen, I'm a busy man. I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't curious."

"New York was always like this beacon of hope, this gilded city where I could find my dreams. My mom married her second husband and moved across the country and I found scholarships, and grants, and loans. I'm not sure how I got into NYU, maybe my essay?" I ask myself, "I managed to get on campus housing which is where I met Madge… Erm Mayor Undersee's daughter."

He nods again, "And now you find yourself in a dangerous neighborhood half way across town… Why?"

"In case you didn't know, there's not a lot of room for student housing on campus, plus, I like it here… Never a dull moment."

Dessert we never ordered came, a massive sundae with all the trimmings, "Can I tell you something honestly, Miss Everdeen?"

"Please, you want me to call you Peeta, call me Katniss," I plead.

"Fine… Katniss," I smile a little, my name so beautiful on his tongue, "I'm glad it was you at the ball last night and not Mister and Misses Undersee. Besides, your friend seems to have caught the attention of my business partner, Gale Hawthorne."

I bite my lip, "The one she was dancing with?" I slide the spoon and gather a fair amount of hot fudge before putting the spoon in my mouth upside down.

"Yes," he watches my moves intently, "Should I have ordered chocolate?"

"I haven't had it in months, too expensive, as well as meat. You'd be surprised how fast you stop eating it once you have to pay for it yourself," I bite my tongue.

_BRAIN! I THOUGHT WE HAD A DEAL! YOU'D KEEP MOUTH IN CHECK!_

I blush, "Sorry, that was out of line…" my phone begins going off in my pocket reminding me I promised to go to work tonight.

"No, it wasn't, are you having issues feeding yourself?" I look away, my gaze enough, I see his face soften in the mirror, "Please, let me take you shopping. I can't-" he balls his fist on the table, "I don't like the thought of you hungry."

"No," I shake my head, anger filling every inch of me, "I'm not some charity case, you're not going to go and _buy_ me food. That's my job."

"And you're struggling at it, please, accept a gift."

"No, Mister Mellark, it would be a hand out. And that would be insulting to my ego, now… I have to get to work there's a Yankee's game and I have to make sure the good people of New York stay as inebriated as possible," I want to run but I realize we're on the other side of town and I only have enough on my meto card to get me to and from Cray's.

I hate hand-outs, but I'm forced to accept an awkward ride back to my shit-hole, "This is where you live?" Mister Mellark asks horrified.

"Sorry, not all of us can afford Penthouses in the Upper East Side," I jingle my keys, "Thanks for lunch, Mister Mellark," I look down, his hand has moved to my knee.

"Belle…" he makes a face, "Forgive me, Katniss, if you need anything, and I mean _anything_ do not hesitate to ask."

His hand finds my cheek and I lean in instinctively, our lips just barely brushing before I pull away as if his lips were fire, "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate! Thank you," I scramble out of the car, "Thank you Mister Abernathy, for both rides, and thanks for lunch."

Peeta looks at me confused by my reaction, hell, I'd be confused too.

The truth of the matter was I felt something very strange when I kissed him, a pull in my heart I'd never felt before… A pull I could never feel again. We were from two different worlds and they never should collide.

_Last night was a mistake, he could have anyone what would he want with you?_ I tell myself, _And what would you want with him? A spoiled rich kid…_


	3. Paper Planes

**Thanks as always for the reviews, alerts and favorites! **

**I should probably but a disclaimer or something here? Basically, I don't own the characters, I'm just using them as my puppets for fun!**

* * *

Calling Cray's a sports bar was kind of like calling a heifer a bull. It was a borderline Go-go bar where the waitress and bartender uniform was a black t-shirt cut so low it showed cleavage, black hot pants that barely covered my ass and fishnets… though the outfit was made complete by the heeled boots that went to my knee.

I was never good at walking in heels but I had become a pro since I took the job at Cray's. I pulled my trench coat around me tight as I reached my stop. I looked like a prostitute, I knew this… In fact I had learned to exploit this fact to get better tips.

Push-up bras were the first addition to my wardrobe as well as a dangerous red lipstick I had borrowed form Madge and never returned.

"You're looking mighty fine," Darius, Cray's right hand, teased as I punched in, hanging my coat up on the employee coat rack.

My phone buzzed.

_I'm sure you didn't get enough for your article. Perhaps we should continue the interview at a later date. How's Friday at eight?_

I bite my lip, _Mister Mellark, are you asking me out on a date?_ I text shoving the phone in my black half apron, he gets back to me almost immediately. Businessmen and their cells…

_I don't do the whole "date" thing. But perhaps._

I roll my eyes, choosing not to answer this one.

Whorish waitress uniforms aside, seeing as Cray's was just off the main drag (The Times Square and Broadway area), it was a pretty nice bar. Pretty chic, everything dark and streamline or made of stainless steel. If I didn't know how much of a sleaze the owner was I'd drink here.

The Yankees game was blasted around, the announcer's voice like a numbing drone. I loved baseball, Just not the Yankees… Unfortunately I lived in New York City, "Katniss, just filled table five. Four Blue Moon's."

"You know that part in Grease?"

I roll my eyes pouring the beer and placing an orange slice in each, "Bristel, if you pull down your pants, I'm leaving…"

She shrugs and takes a shot, Cray doesn't mind us drinking on the job, says we become more personable, "Whoo!" she shakes her hair out, attracting the eyes of every male at the bar, "Who needs a drink!" Bristel was always better at the sex appeal than I was.

I put the bill in the computer leaving the name on the tab open carrying the tray skillfully through the crowd of people yelling and screaming like rowdy drunk New Yorkers.

Two blondes, one rusty haired man, and a dark haired man. Blackberry's and iPhones on the table… Business men, "Alright I have four-" I stop mid-sentence setting the tray down, blushing furiously, "Blue Moon's…"

"It's ok, I'm used to that reaction," the red head tells me, his green eyes finding my cleavage, "But I'm sorry, I'm taken."

Peeta elbows the man, "Would you not harass her, you're getting married in three weeks."

I hold the tray to my stomach, trying to cover my impossibly short shorts from their view, "What are you doing here?" I ask bitterly, did he follow me here?

"Woah now," the other blonde starts but Peeta waves him off.

"Finnick, Gale, Andrew, this is Katniss, the girl from last night," he gives me the 'we need to talk' look and I scowl at him, he still hasn't answered my question.

"Ah, the sixty thousand dollar girl…" the redhead smirks. I want to smack him, but that would put me out of the job.

Peeta stiffens, "Don't put it like that," he cautions.

"Kitty Cat…" Cray has managed to sneak up behind me, his lips dangerously close to my ear. I cringe and move away but his firm hand grasps my arm, fingers digging in, "I pay you to work, not flirt," he coo's as I shudder, "Get laid on your own time…"

_Fuck you in the most metaphorical sense possible!_ I want to yell.

"What do you think I'm doing Cray, they were asking me about what was on tap…" I spit, he gives my arm one good squeeze and is gone.

I flush, embarrassed, "I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes," I stammer rushing to the back, I needed fresh air and to organize my thoughts.

"Bristel, I'm taking fifteen, please keep an eye on five, it's my only table…" _and there's a big tip hopefully coming my way._ She nods and gives me the thumbs up.

I dig through my trench coat pulling out my crutch, my saving grace, a sweet delicious Camel. Outside tucked under the delivery stairs is a bic, I hid it there two years ago and somehow the thing was still going strong.

With each drag the creeps seemed to flush from my system, "You shouldn't smoke, it's bad for your health…" I choke on my mouthful of smoke and nearly fall off the stoop.

I look up to see Peeta, standing with his hands in his pockets, watching my every move. I flick ash to the ground, "You shouldn't be out here, mister Mellark…" I mumble, taking another drag, rubbing at my red arm.

He sits down next to me and I blow my smoke away from him, the wind catching it and pulling it away, "And your boss shouldn't be man handling you like that… Or making you dress like that," he studies me, "And before you ask, no I didn't know you worked here."

"He shouldn't but he does…" I mumble, going for another drag, I pull my phone out of my apron.

_Call me ASAP_ Madge writes, I scowl at Peeta, "Did your friend hurt my friend?"

He shrugs, "Not that I know of, we just dropped her off and she looked happy, so I guess not?" he sighs, looking troubled, upset, older…

"I don't like the idea of you working here…" he finally admits as I flick my butt to the ground.

What do I feel? Angry? Upset? Confused? How about all three!

"What does it matter? I'm just some chick you banged at a party, my occupation doesn't affect you what so ever."

He narrows his eyes, "I'm concerned for your safety, Miss Everdeen."

"Mister Mellark, I'm twenty-one, almost twenty-two, I can handle myself!" I snap, "I appreciate you concern but without this job I'd starve."

His brow furrows as he weighs my words and stands up, "What if you didn't need this job?"

"I won't know until I graduate if I have a job in my field… Besides, an internship doesn't exactly pay the bills…"

He nods, finger stroking his lower lip his eyes not on me but to the side as if contemplating something, "If I could put in a good word for you with someone… So you could leave this place, make more money and not have to worry about that scumbag you work for… Would you throw it back in my face?"

"I don't need your hand-outs!" I hiss, "How many times-"

His finger comes to my lips to silence me, "My god, have they taught you nothing about networking in NYU? I'd put in a good word, not ensure you got the job."

I open my mouth to argue but the door opens, Darius…

"Kat, no customers back here…" he cautions, trying to save me from Cray's wrath.

"Sorry sir, I just had to make sure my girlfriend was ok. We had an argument earlier…"

I gawk as the door closes, "I don't do the whole dating thing…" I taunt.

"Miss Everdeen, I couldn't have that sorry excuse for a boss basically forcing himself on you…"

I want to go for another cigarette, but I can't leave Bristel in the bar alone with my tables on Yankee's night, "Mister Mellark?" he looks up from digging in his wallet, "I don't know why you're so nice to me, or why you'd even take a second glance at me… But thank you…"

He hands me a business card, "I'll make a few phone calls, this guy is an old friend of mine…"

I flip over the card, a thin see through plastic with a cellphone and office number on the front in a simple elegant script reads _Cinna_, "I'll call him, tomorrow."

"Mister Mellark, it's Sunday."

"And Cinna is flying into New York for something with Primrose or my mother, hell it could be one of my brothers, I stay out of fashion just let my buyer Portia stock my closet," I roll my eyes, I own a sparse closet full of mostly dark colors so I don't have to worry about matching. Most of my days are spent in jeans and black t-shirts, simple and cheap.

He tilts my chin up, "You have that look on your face…"

"That look?" I ask curiously tucking the card in my apron.

He grins, I love his grin… Wait, love? "That look you give me when I say something you don't understand or find shocking…" the door opens again.

_Cray_, "Katniss, you have five seconds to get inside," according to my watch I still had five minutes but I wasn't going to evoke the wrath of Cray.

Mister Mellark and his entourage ran up a $200 tab which softened my boss up like nothing else, on top of the general increase in sales a baseball game brings to a sports bar. I ran a black American Express card.

"Damn, I thought those things only came in Gold and Platinum," Bristel remarked pouring her last beer of the night.

I smirk and rip the receipt putting my pen in the folder with the bill, "Here you go, have a nice night," I nervously tuck some hair behind my ear, my hair still in the braid I woke up in. By this point the dark haired man and the cheeky one are arguing about something leaving Peeta and his brother to spectate and referee.

"Thanks," Peeta handed me back the black leather book, "We'll get these two out of your hair before you have to call the cops."

I wave, "Please, the cops are here at least three times a week," I flex my arm, "You think these muscles are from pouring beers and carrying trays?"

The two "arguing" men and the Mellark's vacate their booth. He's dangerously close to me, our chests inches from each other. He's not much taller than I, especially with these wicked heels, "Hey…" I breathe, biting at my lip. Peeta just smirks and shrugs on his coat leaving me gawking.

"We'll be in touch," he tells me simply before he and his friends leave Cray's. My bill folder is still in my hands, it's fat… Like, really fat.

The door closes and I open it up, "Holy shit…" Twenties, lots and lots of twenties, more money than I've held in my hands in months. Holy crap fifties.

My phone vibrates, _Enjoy –Peeta._ I fan myself with the bill folder and cluck my tongue before clearing the table all the while wondering what is up with this guy.

"So… Darius says you have a boyfriend," Bristel teased as we stripped off our boots in the dirty bathroom. At five pm in New York City thousands upon thousands of Manhattan women shed their heels for sneakers, flats or flip-flops for the commute home. Three AM at Cray's Bristel and I do the same, shedding the pinchy patent leather pumps for converse.

I scowl at her through the mirror examining my ridiculous outfit, tight black top, short shorts, fishnets and black chucks, "Should I tease my hair, I'd look like some scene girl. Maybe add a tutu and some cheetah spots," I try and divert the conversation. Peeta was the strange man who I spent last night with then gave me over one hundred dollars as a tip. Oh! But we can't forget the whole him hopefully helping me get a less degrading job. Definitely not my boyfriend…

Though… Could I even trust him?

* * *

At ten am the buzzing of my phone ripped me from my uneasy sleep. The Li's upstairs got into an argument around six am in their native tongue, I knew just enough to tell them to shut up or I was calling NYPD. There was a pause in the yelling then silence… Someday hopefully I'll be out and away from them.

I didn't recognize the number but answered anyway, "Good morning," I yawned.

"Hello, is this Katniss Everdeen?" I nod then realize through my sleepy head they couldn't see.

"This is she," I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"Good morning, hope I didn't wake you. I'm calling on behalf of Cinna and Peter Mellark," holy shit, he wasn't lying, "Cinna would like to set up an interview with you as soon as possible. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah, I'm free all day…" I stifle another yawn, wait… Interview?

"How is one PM. We're on the corner of Madison and 79th top floor. Cinna asks you dress as plainly as possible."

"Sounds great, thank you…" we say our goodbyes and I hang up, staring at my phone for a second before asking the dead line, "What is this interview for!"

I know if I go to bed I'll never wake up in time, and I can't spit in Mister Mellark's face especially after he set this whatever it is up for me. I decide to get an early start first and foremost count my tips from last night.

I pull the white envelope I keep in my half apron out, fuller than usual from Peeta's generous donation to the 'feed Katniss' fund.

Most of the tips are singles since it's common for people to tip a dollar a drink, I get a few fives and a ten or two then I get to the twenties, ten in all, then six fifties. I expect to start seeing singles again but finally I see Ben Franklin's face.

That asshole tipped me $1000 last night. I push the money to the center of my hide-away bed pulling out my phone.

_I must be the most expensive whore this side of the East River._

I toss the phone to the end of the bed and go to shower, rinsing the cigarette smoke and sweat from my skin and finally unbraiding my hair. The first thing I do when I get out of the shower is check my phone.

Two missed calls, one voicemail.

"_Belle, how could you for a second consider yourself a whore?" _I don't listen to the rest of his message, instead I opt to call him.

"Hey big spender," I greet shoving the thousand in my wallet.

He chuckles, "Good morning Miss Everdeen, I trust you're well?"

"Very," I drop my towel and shake out my hair some, "So, what exactly am I interviewing for?"

"Right down to business… I like that…" but he doesn't answer my question.

"Mister Mellark," I pull on my underwear, "I need to know what I'm getting myself into."

His deep laughter warms me to my core, "Miss Everdeen, I'm not sure you've been aware of what you have gotten yourself into since you nearly ran me down Friday night."

I sat down on the bed, wasn't this the question running through my head since we first kissed? What have I gotten myself into?

"Excuse me, Mister Mellark, I was in canary yellow. Maybe you should get your eyes checked," I begin sorting my laundry.

"Please, my vision is perfect… When I'm wearing my glasses or contacts…"

I throw my small pile of light colored clothes back in the hamper as I pull apart my jeans and my dark colored clothes, "Is this what I have to look forward to when I get to your age?" I wince and put the back of my hand to my forehead, why did I just say this?

"What? Sorry, I can't hear you," he joked. God talking with this man was so easy, even when we were making fun of each other… Or I was poking fun at him, "Have you eaten yet, Belle?"

"You're not buying me another meal Mister Mellark don't even try," no more charity from him, "And if you come to the bar I work at again I'm giving you and your friends to another waitress. A grand is a little excessive."

"Please, Miss Everdeen, I've made that back and even what I spent on that lovely dance since this phone call started."

I nearly dropped the phone, my jaw going slack, "You're joking right?"

"Mostly… What are you wearing?" I look down at my socks and boy shorts, I hadn't gotten to a bra yet.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Miss Everdeen, I'm a busy man, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know…"

I bite my lip, do I tell him the truth? Do I continue or sort of flirty conversation or do I tell him jeans and a t-shirt?

"Just my underwear…" I squeeze my eyes shut listening to his sigh.

"I'll be right over…" he murmurs.

My eyes snap open, did he just say that!

"Mister Mellark, I'm a very classy lady, not a booty call."

"You called me, wouldn't that make _me_ the booty call?" I took the phone from my ear staring at it, a billionaire booty call? That was way out of my league, "What is your plan for today?"

I shrug though he can't see me, "Not sure, I put forth the effort to do my laundry but don't feel like carrying it…" I kick at the pile of darks, "Maybe go shopping, my fridge is empty… and there is a Fossil bag I've had my eye on…"

"Need a ride, Miss Everdeen?" my phone pings loudly in my ear telling me I have a text.

_Madge: Yoga, Shopping and Cocktails?_

I quickly sent a yes back before putting the phone back to my ear, "No, mister Mellark, I have the subway. But thank you," I can almost see him making a disgusted face, "When was the last time _you_ were on a subway mister Mellark?"

"I think I was six."

"So, since you're a busy man, why have you wasted so long on the phone with me?" I ask twirling some hair around my finger and biting my nail after it was good and wound.

"Who says it's a waste?"

I roll my eyes and choose to skirt around his question, "Are you going to let me get dressed?"

"Why?" he asks, "So I can just take you out of it again?"

I cock an eyebrow, "Mister Mellark, if you want to ask me out, you should do so. I don't play games."

He sighs, I've definitely taken him out of his element, "Miss Everdeen, would you care to join me for dinner tonight?"

"Tonight isn't a good night for me Mister Mellark, I have yoga and shopping and cocktails with the girls. I'll be in the Upper East tomorrow to visit your dear friend Cinna. Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Tomorrow sounds perfect. When is your interview?"

"One," there box by my door buzzes, "One second…" I press the call button, "Yeah?"

"Is that how you greet your two best friends?" I press the button to buzz them in.

"Come on up!" I open my door and decide to finally throw on a bra, "Still with me, Prince Charming?" I tease.

"Trying to keep up, Belle. Now, I'll let you go have your girls day. Work hard on your downward dog."

I pull on my yoga pants, "Please, you're going to have to try a lot harder next time."

"Whatever you say Miss Everdeen, be safe."

"I'll try…" I click off my phone.

* * *

"Wait, you slept with him?" Madge gasped assuming the tree pose.

"Wouldn't you? The man just spent sixty thousand dollars to dance with her. I'm surprised she even made it to the bedroom… When was the last time you got any? Cato?"

I shudder, "Johanna, maybe now isn't the time?" I ask, blushing as every single person in the room has their attention on us.

"Please," we drop into downward dog and I sigh as my muscles sing in sweet agony. Every inch of my body extending, "This is a cause for celebration…"

An hour of yoga and twenty minutes on the subway later the girls and I met our soon to be unsingle friend, Annie for some retail therapy.

"I can't believe you're getting married, and Madge and I are just getting out of college…" I sigh examining the soft leather of a purse that looks like a saddle bag, "When am I going to get to meet the lucky bastard?" I ask opening the flap to examine the lining.

"Please, Annie Cresta is twenty-five-years-old… When you get to be my age and you're not married, then you can talk," if my life was _Sex and the City_ Johanna Mason would be my Samantha Jones. She oozed confidence and sexuality. She hasn't had the desire to settle down in all twenty-eight years of her life and she was planning on keeping it that way.

She came up to me and flipped the price tag over, "And how are _you_ going to afford a hundred dollar bag?"

I blush a little, "I got a big tip last night…"

"Big tip? How much?"

"Like… A grand?" I blush again, "My… Prince Charming and his friends came into Cray's last night…"

"The guy you slept with?"

"Yeah and his three friends…"

"What did you do?" she asks, "Let him fuck you in the-" Madge covers her mouth.

She looks horrified, "Jo, I want to be able to show my face around here in the future, god, discuss this over cocktails!"

I decided to stop flirting with fate and purchased the bag, stuffing my beaten up wallet and random necessitates in it, including my cellphone which didn't have a new text. I bit my lip, trying to hide my frown. I wanted to talk to Peeta more, but I couldn't seem needy.

* * *

"So, I never did get a real answer, when are we meeting the future Mister Annie Cresta?" I ask dipping a piece of my spicy tuna roll into soy sauce and then wasabi. Since I could actually afford a meal, cocktails turned into a dinner date at Morimoto which is hands down the best place to get raw fish this side of the Mississippi.

She chews methodically, "Well, I was going to have him come to cocktail hour but he got held up at the office," she shrugs, "Then we got sushi and forget Finnick," she pops an eel roll in her mouth and smiles, "We haven't had girls night in weeks."

We look up as a waiter comes by with a tray of four beers and four shots, "We didn't order any," Madge starts as he sets down the glasses in front of each of us.

"These are courtesy of Mister Odair," he places two fresh chopsticks on the top of each glass and on top of the little bridge they made, "He apologizes for not sending champagne, but he didn't want to make girls night stuffy," Annie giggles like a love struck school girl.

"Oh Sake bombs…" We all go for our chopsticks, maki completely forgotten while delicious alcohol was in front of us, "Ready? One, two… Go!" we pull the chopsticks bridge out from under the glass and the shot sinks clinking the whole way down.

To me sake tastes just like chugging soy sauce, but the beer is exquisite, just malty enough to make my blood sing. The shot glass clinks against my teeth as I near the end, having no buffer to keep it from trying to take out a tooth.

"Delicious, and my thanks to Finnick Odair," I smile as Johanna says this, going back to my sushi.

_Wait…_ I think of the coppery haired man at my table last night, "Annie, do you have a picture of Finnick?"

She rolls her eyes, "Katniss, this is 2012, of course I have a picture of him." She pulls out her iPhone, the background image being her and the same copper haired man from last night.

"I waited on him last night," I tell her, chewing on a large piece of pickled ginger, "Nice man, one of the first words out of his mouth were, 'I'm taken'. So he's ok in my book."

"Who says that?" Johanna asks, Annie rolls her eyes, "I mean, how wonderful."

I pull my cellphone out, I didn't have a date for the wedding and I knew one hot blonde who would probably go with me.

_Your friend Finnick is marrying my friend Annie, small world. Go with me to the wedding?_ I press send and shove the phone back in my new Fossil bag.

"No texting at the dinner table," Madge scolds, poking at me with a chopstick.

"Sorry," I squirm away from the assault, "I was asking Prince Charming to go with me to the wedding."

The three girls gawk at me, never once had I asked a man on a date, what made Mister Mellark so different?

Was it the fact that I knew he could woo any girl in Manhattan and knew I had to strike now?

"What? He's a good dancer…"

Did I even want to strike?


	4. Into the Wild

**Holy bejebus, I can't even express how shocked I am by the reception to this story. This started as an experiment I loosely outlined and wrote while slightly inebriated. Thank you all so much for all the reviews and what not! I'm sorry this is taking so long to get rolling, but trust me... Big things are coming!**

* * *

Nothing says bad time like an eight am Monday morning, especially when your friend's fiancé sent over more than one round of sake bombs. Four to be exact, and he paid our bill as an 'I'm sorry I couldn't come out with you guys tonight'.

I threw my backpack over my shoulder still not ready but I only had forty five minutes to get to class. The subway Monday morning was hell on earth. Sleepy moody New Yorkers all jamming into cans on our way to school, and work, it was always a tense place.

I still hadn't heard back from Peeta, maybe our date was off? Or maybe he was just busy…

Class from eight am to noon, four hours of being told what was going to be on my final exams. My final, final exams…

"Remember, your articles are twenty percent of your grade, they're due Wednesday at eleven PM."

Crap, the article I was writing on Peeta was going to be what I was submitting, but every time we talk it turns to flirty banter and bullshit. My subconscious kicks me, tonight I was getting that interview…

At precisely 12:15 my phone rang, "Hello?"

"Hey girl, lunch?"

Madge… God I was starving, but I couldn't, I had to get to that interview for a still unknown job.

"I can't Madge, I have a job interview in one hour across town…"

"Ooo for what?"

"No idea I-" I go to cross the busy street to catch the 6 and a hand pulls me back to the sidewalk just as a taxi speeds by.

"Woah there…" I know that voice anywhere.

"Madge… I'll call you back." I disconnect and spin around, "Mister Mellark, what are you doing here?" I ask with my hands on my hips.

"Keeping you from getting hit by a taxi, but I had lunch with the director of the Arts Department here. I wish you could have joined me."

I checked my watch, I was going to be late at this rate, "Some of us had to attend class. Speaking of which, that interview, I'm finishing it tonight."

He nodded and checked his watch, "I'm going to be late…" I grumble.

To be a New Yorker you needed to develop one skill. Hand in the air, and shout from deep down in your core, "Taxi!"

"I can drive you, Miss Everdeen." A yellow cab pulled up in front of me.

"Mister Mellark, you're a busy man, I'm a busy woman," I get on my toes and kiss his cheek, "I'll see you after my interview…"

He rolls his eyes and opens the door for me, "I'll send Abernathy to fetch you from Cinna's," I didn't argue, I had no idea where he lived to be honest. Just that he was on the Upper East Side.

I slide in, "Tell him I'll be the one looking confused and out of place on Madison," he kisses my forehead, lips so soft and gentile… I blush deeply, "Madison and 79th please."

The driver chuckles and we're off.

My phone buzzes, _I think the song goes, 'Hate to see her go, but oh to watch her leave.' Good luck._

At this point, I didn't really care. I was bound to find out in a few minutes anyway.

I really did look out of place in the Upper East side in my black t-shirt, ripped jeans and converse, so much so that the doorman in Cinna's building nearly turned me away… or called the cops.

With my torn backpack, raccoon eyes from partial hangover and run mascara and general disheveled appearance I definitely looked like I was ready to rob the place.

He told me to dress simply, so that's what I did. _Oh god, how could I dress like this to an interview?_ I ask myself over and over as the elevator takes me to the 20th floor.

There's a small lobby with marble floors, clean and chic and two doors, one most likely being a supply closet or something for maintenance.

I knock on the door and wait, using my toe to scrape some dirt off the front of my Chuck Taylors. I can hear heels clicking from afar and the door opens, "Oh hello! You must be Miss Everdeen! Come come!"

I gawk at the woman's dark hair, which would be normal if it wasn't for the bright green underneath, "I'm Octavia, we spoke on the phone?"

I nod marveling at the beautiful apartment, three of mine could fit in just this one open space. The walls were pure white but covered in abstract and modern art. The floor was a pale wood which made the clean white furniture stand out even more, "Can I take your bag?" I hand her my backpack, she makes a disgusted face looking at the strap held together with duct tape.

"Careful, my laptop is in there," she nods and hangs it on the coat rack.

"You have such lovely skin," Octavia chirps, "Care for something to drink?"

"I'm fine…"

"Oh good, have you showered?" I gulp.

"Yeah, this morning…" I lied, "Why?"

"Just in case Cinna wants a closer look," I bite my lip, _holy fuck… What am I getting myself into_.

"Venia, Flavius!" she calls, "Here, sit sit!"

"I'm not taking my clothes off," I blurt, I thought this was supposed to keep me from my degrading job.

Octavia laughs, "Of course not, though we may need to get your measurements," I nod as an aqua blue haired woman wearing gold lipstick and a man with curly carrot colored hair saunter in from another room holding tightly onto glasses of wine.

"This is Venia and Flavius, Cinna's other assistants," she takes the glass of red wine from the redhead who gets in my face and examines me with a scrutinizing eye.

"Her eyebrow's need a bit of work, but other than that…" his soft thumb rubs under my eye, "Hmmm, you should try cold cream to get off the mascara."

"Thanks," I mumble, "Could you guys tell me what exactly I'm here for?" I looked between the three, they all basically oozed haute couture.

"You mean Mister Mellark didn't tell you?" a voice asked, smooth and deep and oh so French, "Come," I stand immediately following him into another room, the Couture Creatures choosing to stay behind, "Miss Everdeen is it?"

"Katniss, and I take it you're Cinna?" he nods, for the reception I got Cinna looks so… Normal. His skin is the color of the hot chocolate I used to drink as a child, his dark hair buzzed very short and the only color he chose to wear was a navy blue button up with his black pants.

Compared to the haute couture in the other room he was oddly tame, "Please make yourself at home. I'll just be a minute," he leaves me to my own devices, and naturally I have to examine everything. Photographs, plaques on his office walls,

_Cinna LeBeau February 2012 Fashion Week, Paris_

He's pictured with a small dark haired woman who resembles me slightly, very slightly. Actually the only thing we have in common is that we both have black hair and look really out of place with the mannequin like models.

"That was Genevieve, lovely girl."

"What happened to her?" I ask idly, she's dressed like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, and she's gorgeous.

"She had children…" he sighs glumly, "I don't design clothes for pregnant women so her agent and I worked to get her at a more family friendly designer."

"So, I'm here for a modeling job."

He nods and with his gentle hand on my back directs me to the chair seated before his desk, "Yes, I know these things are usually done with agents and what not, but they send me twiggy things," he sighs exasperated by the thought, possibly recalling a bad experience.

"But, I don't know anything about this. Clearly there's someone better."

He folds his hands and rests his chin in the cradle his woven fingers form, "More disciplined yes, but I don't want that. The women I go for my models need to be relatable. They need to be clean, in good health. Mister Mellark says you seem to be a little…" he hesitates, "…underweight, which I can see," I shift uneasily and pull at my shirt, "A good diet can't fix. How are you in heels?"

"I spend most nights in four inch heels waiting tables… Also I've run four city blocks in them because I was about to miss the last train of the night," his bright green eyes smile at me.

"I can't say I can relate…" he somehow talks me into letting him measure me, every single result being written down on a spread sheet with my name at the top.

"Why do you need all these?" I ask as he measures my inseam.

He chews on the pencil, "If you take my offer, everything will be custom to you to look its best."

"Wait… So you want to make me pretty?" I ask.

"I want to use you to get me noticed. I'm still small, personal clients, I have a shop down with the other designers… But in September Fashion week starts and I have something big planned."

I drop down to the chair whether or not he's done I can't stand. Me, a model? Fashion week?

"You're in shock?"

"A little," I admit.

"If you agree, I'll need you for most of September…" he looks through his schedule, flipping through the pages.

"But, it's Fashion _Week_ not Fashion month."

He smiles and sits across from me, crossing is legs from his desktop perch, "But, I'll need you in London, and Paris, and Milan," he smiles as my jaw drops, "I was told you were graduating soon?"

I nod, "Two weeks…" could I do this?

"For your training I'd only need to see you a few afternoons a week, though I'll be heading back to Paris in three weeks so most of your sessions will be with my assistants," I nod, soaking this in, I thought this was a job interview, not a job offer, "Paid of course," he reaches back for a folder, handing it to me, "This would be your contract, it is negotiable."

I bite my lip looking down at the contract, _"The Model will be paid a wage of $65 an hour during training and a negotiable pay during show's and appearance"_ I make $2.25 plus tips at Cray's and $100 for tutoring sessions which will be ending as soon as school lets out.

"I… I'll do it," I look up at Cinna.

He grins, "Good, you're usually the type of girl I'm going for. Though you're shy, you lack… Confidence, and since getting here you've looked at your watch fifteen times."

I blush, "Sorry… I have a date with Mister Mellark, I think."

He nods, "Understandable, but you're really going dressed like that?" yet again my jaw drops, but he picks up his phone, "Flavius, bring in what we've just finished…" he hangs up, "It should fit," he shrugs as the redhead sets down two garments, "I'll leave you be, tuck the shirt in the skirt and I'll find suitable shoes.

I gulp, "What the fuck is going on?" I ask myself before taking off my shirt. The new one is soft, really soft and cut so it just show's my collar bones. The black material goes down to my elbow's and lays flat against my waist where the skirt lays. It's a lush swing skirt that poofs out when I twirl.

A swing skirt I think they're calls but I've never been 'fashionable'.

"You said your shoe size was forty one?" he slaps his forehead, "Forgive me, Americans and their strange measuring system… Eight?"

I nod as he sets down a pair of black flats with a very modest kitten heel, "Mister Mellark's driver will be here to retrieve you shortly."

"I look like a pink lady," I spin around on the heels much to Cinna's amusement, "Or at least a red lady."

"Hmmm, I would use better terminology… Someone may think you're a prostitute…" he hands me the contract and a pen, "This good through the end of the year. If you still want to be the face of my company, well, one of them, we'll need another one for February."

_Katniss Everdeen_ I sign before handing him back the paper. This was it, I was free of Cray's, and if I play my cards right, I could actually move in with Madge, foot half the rent if she'll let me. Pay for food.

I tried to be poised and calm, but couldn't stop the dumb grin from spreading across my face, "When do I start?" I ask.

"Tomorrow evening?" he hugs me, "Thank you, Katniss. We're going to do big things, you and I," I nod and smile, I could trust this man.

He flicks at my choker, "I like this…"

"Thank you, it's my mother's…" I murmur.

* * *

When I come downstairs Abernathy is leaning on the hood of a sleek black SUV, the same that took me home the night of Peeta's and my sleeping together, "Long time no see sweetheart. I see Madison Avenue is treating you right."

I curtsy, "I'm a model now sir," he snorts and opens the door for me.

"Fancy clothes don't make the person…" he closes the door leaving me to feel that he's not just talking about me, but about his boss, about Peeta.

"I know that, sir."

He snorts again, "Just keep that in mind."

He helps me out of the car in front of the beautiful white building atop which Peeta lives. The doorman of this building doesn't look at me nearly as strangely as Cinna's even with my duct tape bound backpack, "Here you go sweetheart," he hands me a slip of paper.

_Elevator: 343689_

_Garage: 2108_

"What is this?" I ask with a frown.

"The passcodes to the penthouse and the parking garage, if you have a car."

I smirk, "Mister Abernathy, I live in New York, I only have a drivers license to get into bars."

He rolls his eyes as the elevator lurches upwards, "We figured as much, can you even drive?"

"I haven't driven since I moved here, but I used to know how. I'm sure I could figure it out eventually," I smirk as the door opens.

My heels echo off the walls of the white lobby into Peeta's home, "Look what I found wandering the streets of Manhattan. I know you don't like us bringing home stray's…" a door opens and out pours the sweet hymn of classical music, "But this one looked clean, or at least not… Snappy," I roll my eyes as Peeta comes from a back hallway into the main room.

He's still in the same suit as before, though his tie's loosened, "You changed."

What a greeting, "Thanks, I thought I looked nice too," I spin around as the music changes from the nice sweet classical to _Bad Things_ by Jace Everett.

He takes my hand and guides me to his office, "Don't mind the song. It's on random I promise."

I tuck some loose hair behind my ear, "So… Friday was a onetime thing?"

He doesn't miss a beat, falter, or pause… He just chuckles and closes the door behind us, "So what would you like to do tonight? You're dressed up so the sky's the limit."

With him, maybe it was the limit.

I took in a second to take in his study. It was so plain though it didn't need to be decorated. I kick off my heels and toe over to the massive window overlooking Central Park. The white walls and black furnature take nothing away from the beautiful view.

"Do you like it?" he asks, watching me from the door.

"I have a view of an ally… This is… This is amazing…"

He rests his hand on the small of my back awkwardly. He's nothing like the confident man at the party, he's more cautious, "You see that building right there?" he asks pointing to a tall tower under construction on the corner of the park, I nod, "I just signed the lease on the penthouse on top."

I crane my neck, he'll be much higher in the gilded tower, "How much did that run you?" I ask not thinking.

"Only a… few million," he doesn't wait for me to be shocked, or even react, "But, it's real estate, so it's an investment," he shrugs.

"I've never been in Central Park," I admit, no longer impressed by his new home, well… I'm still impressed, only I've moved on.

"You're something Miss Everdeen."

"Oh please, Peeta, call me Katniss…"

"First name basis with the CEO of one of the largest companies in the United States, well, privately owned that is. How does that make you feel?" he asks after spinning me around to face him.

"How should it? The clothes don't make the man Peeta," he kisses my nose.

"I knew there was a reason I couldn't stop thinking about you since the moment I heard you sing…" he admits.

My face falls, "Wait… what?"

* * *

**Because it wouldn't be a romance about Peeta and Katniss if he first saw her the night of the party! **

**Next chapter: Big things... **

**maybe.**

**Lets see if we can get to 80 reviews by the next chapter? That would be sweet.**


	5. We Owned the Night

**Before I get started: To my anonymous reviewer. I meant that she had a $100. :3**

**Can I tell you all how much I love you guys? I never expected to get to 100 reviews so fast!**

**On other notes, I found the entire collection of Disney music on Spotify, guess who's been running around her parents' house screaming the intro to Lion King? Poor folks, they can't wait for me to go back to school.**

* * *

From the moment I met him Peeta's shell has only seemed to crack once or twice. He's always so calm and collected, now as I gawk and panic at his admission he joins me, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, stroking his lower lip with his finger and staring out the window.

"When?" I ask, I've done my fair share of drunk karaoke. If that was his first time seeing me I would never live it down!

"Opening night of your play. You were so graceful on your feet and I was immediately enchanted, but when you opened your mouth… I swear if we weren't inside and it wasn't night the birds would have stopped to listen. You sang with such conviction, such passion."

I smile faintly and rock on my toes with my hands behind my back, "You came to my play?" I ask innocently.

He flushes a little, the suave confident Peeta that lead me to his bedroom on Friday replaced by a more cautious and shy one, "Prim wanted to see it. She loves Disney movies."

I roll my eyes and look out the window again at the tiny people roaming the park, "What child doesn't? Beauty and the Beast was my favorite, followed by The Nightmare Before Christmas."

Cautiously he steps behind me, his hands on my hips, "You have a beautiful voice…" he murmur's, "Sing for me…" the confidence is back.

"Mister Mellark…" I flush, focusing at a child bouncing a ball down the street while a heavily pregnant woman follows him.

"Please?" he asks, kissing the back of my head.

I sigh and take a breath, "Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see. Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three…" I go in to imitating rather comically the other parts, the townsfolk, Gaston, LeFou, finally I get to my last line of the song, "There must be more than this provincial life!"

"Look there she goes a girl who's strange but special. A most peculiar mademoiselle. It's a pity and a sin, she doesn't quite fit in. Because she really is a funny girl. A beauty but a funny girl. She really is a funny girl. That Belle," he continues in a spoken word before spinning me around.

"I'm starting to think that it was _you _watching all the Disney movies and Prim was just there as a decoy," he rolls my eyes as I study his face, the blonde lashes that outline his bright blue eyes, the tight smirk and slight five o'clock shadow. He's not much taller than I but solidly built. Stocky but fit I'm sure if he wanted he could pitch me half way across the room.

"See something you like?" he asks with a cocky smirk.

I nod and press my lips to his, he doesn't expect my actions, perhaps still worried about me being weirded out? Who cares, within seconds his hands find the side of my face and he deepens the kiss.

Then it hits me, I remember him. From the first night. The director told me over and over again to get over my nervousness pick a non-threatening person in the audience (someone I trusted basically) since none of my friends could make it I picked someone in the front. A blonde man with a small blonde woman, the entire time I watched them. So pretty and perfect, his kind eyes always watching me.

"You… You sat in the front row, center section two seats from the middle. When I got back to my dressing room there was a single daffodil waiting for me but I the card wasn't signed it just said…"

"When you sing the birds stop to listen," I nod, my jaw going slack once more, "I thought that small token of my admiration would be sufficient, but I couldn't get you out of my head," his thumbs massage the bottom of my ribcage, I shudder at his touch, but in a good way. The slight movement of his thumb warming my skin at first but then the warmth sinks down into my core. It's not the primal lust I felt at the Masquerade, but something so strange and foreign I back away.

"I'm sorry," I mumble at his shocked look, _Quick, think of something quick._

But he does it for me, "Want to go down to the park?" I look down at my bare feet, my kitten heels still in the middle of the room, "I love watching the sunset in here, and someday I hope to show you it, but for now, I can think of a much better spot…"

We stand in the marble lobby and Peeta fixes my hair, tucking it behind my ear some, "Does Abernathy need to come with us?" I ask motioning to the gruff man behind us.

Peeta shrugs, "He'll get distracted and keep his distance. I like having him around, I've had a gun pulled on me once or twice," the elevator door opens and the two men head in but I stay put, "Katniss, you don't get to the top without hurting some people's feelings. Unfortunately two of them were a little less stable than I previously thought," he holds out his hand, "Come," I lace my fingers in his before letting our palm's touch and head in the gold elevator.

_What am I getting myself into?_

Abernathy does do a good job keeping his distance, in fact he seems pretty keen on keeping to himself but I can't help but feel like I'm being constantly watched. Maybe it's because I've coaxed the Beast out of the West Wing into the evening light shining through the pale pink branches of Cherry trees.

Peeta and his endless bachelorhood have made it to the papers quiet regularly, even tabloids like TMZ questioned. The Mellark's were the twenty-first century Kennedy family. The oldest brother, Ryan Mellark, was a senator, the middle was the black sheep, his partying and sexual conquests hitting page six regularly.

I chuckle a little, "What's so funny?" Peeta asks as a gust of wind peppers us with pale pink petals.

"Please don't be mad… But I was thinking, at least what I've heard about your older brother, Andrew… He should meet my friend Johanna…" I look up at the late afternoon light shining through the petals.

Peeta squeezes my hand, "Miss Everdeen, why would you ever say that?"

"Because your brother and my friend seem to have the same thoughts on romantic liaisons. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

He chuckles and pulls me to him, so his arm is around my waist. It's strange, being this close to someone, but still so nice. A siren in the distance breaks us from our trance, not a foreign sound at all, but still just piercing enough, "So…" I start.

"So," he echoes.

"Is the big rich CEO alright with being seen with the common riffraff like me?" I ask as we approach Bethesda Fountain. We sit in an open spot in the grass where whatever pesticide they use seemed to fail because in about ten square feet bright yellow dandelions which I immediately sink my fingers into, picking a bunch and popping their heads off like a child.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asks lying down in the grass, there's a carefree air about him. I'm shocked when he closes his eyes and lets me cover him in dandelion heads. Secretly I'm still four years old most of the time, "What are you doing?"

I shrug, though he can't see me and sit on my knees, smoothing out my skirt, "Your black suit makes you look like a secret agent. I'm… brightening it up some," he cracks an eye open when I speak but rolls both eyes when I'm done before pulling me to him.

"Come here…" he grumbles, his hand on the back of my head. I don't need to be directed, my lips gently brush his before I shift so I'm lying next to him, "So…" he yawns, "Is Central Park everything you dreamed of?" he asks with a playful smirk. I rest my head on his chest.

I sigh deeply, "Nah… It's more…" I tilt my head up and pick a cherry blossom from his hair, "I met the most fascinating man there. Then I covered him in flowers," he lifted his head up to examine himself.

"So you-"

"Shame you were busy!" I tease sitting up, he just rolls his eyes before reaching for his pocket and pulling out his phone.

"Yeah?" he asks, the carefree joy gone from his face, "Don't tell me that Effie," he grumbles before his hand finds my back, finger tips tracing my spine through the high-waisted skirt and black top. I shiver as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his forehead creasing, "It's _only_ the most important meeting this month, and you've double booked me. How can I be in two places at once tomorrow?" he's stern, "See if you can push my nine o'clock to eight then one of them to nine," he pauses, "Just email or text me. I'll be away from my phone for the rest of the night," he presses end and shoves it back in his pocket.

"Everything ok?" I ask sitting on my knees again as he rubs my lower back, his fingers dancing over my spine.

He bites his lip, still looking stern and businessmen like, "My assistant scheduled two big meetings at the same time. If the people can be flexible and someone shows up an hour early everything will be ok. Unfortunately I have to be at the office at seven thirty… Ish."

"Ish… If I was late for a shift at Cray's he'd probably take me out back and spank me," I say without thinking.

Peeta sits straight up, the businessman replaced by something angry and fierce, "He _what_!" he snaps.

"Peeta, no he-"

"Did he ever lay a hand on you?" he demands in a hard voice, gripping my arm firmly as if afraid I was going to run from the question.

"No, Peeta, I was just joking!" I jerk away, "Please… Don't be angry…" I whisper, picking at the grass.

He takes a deep breath and shudders, "Have you quit yet?"

I shake my head no, "I didn't know if I'd have a new job… Plus, I figured I should finish out the week…" that wasn't the whole reason. I didn't even know if I could support myself on Cinna's pay. Who knows how long "training sessions" would be or if he would keep me on. I had signed a contract…

"Something's bothering you…" he murmurs, moving his hand from my back and heading to my cheek. Something catches his eye, "We have to move," he finally brushes off the flowers before taking one with the stem still on and tucking it behind my ear. I look in the direction the distraction came from.

One lone cameraman aiming in our direction, this was something I didn't think of, ending up on page six right next to a socialite's splayed cooch. It was only Monday though, maybe something else will catch their attention.

"Please forgive me," Peeta squeezes my hand lightly, "The thought of that man touching you…" he squeezes his eyes shut, "Katniss, when I saw him at your work. It took everything I had in me not to leap across the table and strangle him."

I nod before pulling my phone out of my bag giving him the 'one minute' sign. I dial my work number and wait two rings before a disgruntled Cray answers, "What is it Kitty cat?"

"I was just calling to let you know I quit," I hang up without waiting for a response, I get on my toes and kiss Peeta's cheek, "There…" I slide the phone back in my purse, "I'm not entirely sure I can survive on what Cinna will be paying me… but…"

I've never been a fan of PDA, but when he loops his arm around my waist and dips me down for a passionate kiss all sailor and nurse style I have to sway a little on my stance. The jolt of electricity his eyes bring me melt my core.

He pulls back, "What are you doing to me…" I whisper, "because whatever it is… don't stop…"

I'm no longer the stressed waitress from Greenwich Village, he's no longer the twenty-nine year old CEO who's probably spent more nights hidden away in an office than tossing back a Cucumber Martini at a bar near his home called the Rogue Tomate while I nursed a Rhubarb Martini.

I had convinced him to dismiss Mister Abernathy, we were relatively safe. The NYPD was around, "Let's go to Times Square," I suggest after we finished our drinks and bar food. Everything on this side of town was all clean and organic. He dined on an octopus salad while I dared to try squid ink pasta.

"It's full of tourists," he grumbles as I stand going for my wallet, "No…" he pulls me to him, "Belle, a gentleman pays for his lady's dinner," I stick my tongue out and he chuckles, "Your tongue… It's all black," I get on my toes and bite his lip gently.

"Let me pay, some big spender gave me a grand the other night…" I murmur, trying to pretend to be sexy and make him lower his guard.

"Remind me to thank him, maybe now you'll buy groceries…" he kisses me lightly, ignoring the other restaurant patrons that have to see our buzzed displays of lust… or affection. Either or, poor them.

I pull back and giggle, "You taste like octopus!" he rolls his eyes and slaps down a black credit card, "Hey…" I dig in my purse and pull out a stick of gum, sneaking one into his mouth which shocks him as he signs the bill.

"I'll call Haymitch…" he starts for his phone but I stop him, shoving my metro card in his face.

"God damnit Peeta, you're in New York, you're going to act like a New Yorker. Designer suit aside… Actually…" I straighten his tie as I lead him down 60th and to the N towards Cony Island. He's confused as we descend into the underground of NYC. The dingy white tile walls echo the sound of my heels and the sweet crooning of a perfectly tuned guitar. I dig in my purse and give the man a twenty.

"Thank you miss, sir, God bless!" the man tells us, continuing to play.

Peeta seems shocked by this, not by my tip, but the fact that someone is making their living do this. I slid my card through the turnstiles, unlocking it before passing it back to Peeta.

"Is it always this hot down here?" he asks, loosening his tie.

"You should feel in in August. I swear you sweat off ten pounds if the train is late," the echo whooshing and rattling gets louder as the train pulls in. I get lost often in the city, but can say with pride I can find my way home and to Times Square without issue.

When we reach street level I'm as always in awe at the bustle and bright lights, "Someday…" he wraps his arms around my waist, "Your face will be up on one of these billboards…" he kisses the back of my head and I melt into him.

What was this man doing to me?

We walk down the blue paved street, attracting onlookers, a few who recognize Peeta snap a photograph of the two of us hand in hand, "What's the appeal of this place?" he asks idly as I sip on a decaf iced coffee and smoke my first cigarette of the day.

It felt so good, kind of like sex.

I flick the ash away, "I think it's the fact that there's two Lids within two city blocks of each other?" I ask poking at ice with my straw, "That and… I mean it's Times Square. This is like the cultural hub of the United States!" another drag and a frown from Peeta.

"Here I thought Kim Kardashian's twitter feed was the hub of American culture…" he sighs.

I shrug and open the lid, proceeding to eat the ice, "You should get home soon… You have work in the morning…" I grumble, not wanting this night to end. It was still early but that's the price you pay for going on a date on a Monday.

He just shrugged, "You should come back with me. I don't normally sleep with another person in my bed… In fact Friday was the first time since I moved into that Penthouse."

I shake my head no, "I have studying to do…" it's late, well kind of, just past eleven. I want to call Madge and gush like a school girl about this evening but she has an eight am tomorrow and I can't be that person.

"I'll have Abernathy pick me up from your apartment…"

* * *

When we exit the subway closest to my place blinding red and white lights greet us, "Ugh… It's only May, too soon for people to be lighting their houses on fire…" I know the month of the year means nothing, but since moving to the city I've noticed house fires happen more often than not in the hot months.

We cross 7th and head to my street when I stop dead in my tracks, the lights are coming Jones Street where a pillar of black smoke rises to the sky. I take off into a run, "Katniss!" Peeta yells chasing after me as I bolt to my street.

_No… No… No!_

"Katniss!" I push through the gathered crowd to the front of the police barricade in just enough time to watch the row home next to my building collapse.

"No!" I shout trying to cross the barricade but Peeta's arms and the NYPD stop me.

"Miss!" an officer shouts.

"That's my home!" I point to my building, there are no fancy fire retardant walls there, it's an old home set up to be four shitty apartments that whistle in the winter and bake in the summer, but it's _my_ home.

And barefoot on Bleaker Street I watch it go up in flames, clinging to Peeta as I watch four years of my life be licked away by deadly orange flames.


	6. Fallen Interlude

**Welcome back everyone! Hope you had a wonderful weekend. I know I did.**

**I would like to first thank my new Beta Apecanin1 who will hopefully be making this story more readable for many many chapters. :D **

**I keep forgetting a disclaimer, and since I will be referencing a lot of music in future chapters I'd like to just say that I don't own any of it!**

* * *

"Katniss, calm down, I can't understand you!"

I wipe the tears and Peeta hands me a tissue. _Deep breaths, Everdeen. In, out…_

"Half of my block is up in flames. My building is basically gone. I don't have a home!" My voice cracks awkwardly as I choke on the words.

_I'm homeless. I'm homeless…_

I have to tell myself this over and over. They managed to save part of the building and it looks like a good portion of my apartment wasn't destroyed, but I can't go inside. Instead, I have to sit there and watch them gut my home with pike poles and crow bars.

"Yes you do! You know I have a spare room waiting for you. It figures it takes your building burning down to get you to move in with someone…" I wipe the tears from my eyes with the side of my index finger and chuckle, "Come over now," she yawns. "I'll set everything up…"

I shake my head, "No, it's late and you have to be up early." I rub at my brow with the back of my hand. "I'm with Peeta. I'll crash at his and be over tomorrow afternoon. I still have your key on my key ring…"

"Ok, and wear anything you want out of my closet since I'm sure you're not getting your clothes back…"

I chuckle again, "Remember a year ago when you yelled at me to get renter's insurance?"

"Duh…"

"Thank you, Madge. I owe you big time…"

"Anytime Katniss, I'll see you tomorrow…" Tomorrow, we'd negotiate how much of the bills I'll be paying. She's offered me free room and board… but I can't accept that!

A firefighter comes out of the front door carrying a tarnished gold picture frame. "Wait… That's mine!" I call, shoving my phone at Peeta and, for the second time tonight, crossing the barricade. He hands me the frame and I hug it tightly to my chest. This was the last piece of my father. It was of him, my mother and me fishing when I was about four, right before he died.

"Thank you…" he nods and I rush back to Peeta before NYPD actually arrest me instead of just threatening to do so.

* * *

I stare out the massive window, my brain trying to make sense of this day… In less than twelve hours my whole life changed… I got a new job… I'm homeless –ish.

I still need to get that damned interview… When I came home, Peeta hid immediately in his office. He seemed confused by my presence on his couch the few times he emerged. Once to give me a change of clothes, another to ask me if I needed anything, and finally a third to ask the sleeping arrangements.

"I have a lot of studying to do… I think I'm just going to pull an all-nighter. But you should get to bed, you have an empire to run tomorrow…"

"Are you sure?" he asks, his hands in his pockets.

"Positive… Do you have any free time tomorrow? I can email you the interview questions and… I just need to get this project done or I'll fail."

"Sure, my email is in your phone. Though, I'm not sure what good it is in there."

I smile faintly and pull the dark green throw tighter around my shoulders, "Yeah, once I get my finances more straightened out I'll maybe invest in a real phone and stop using these burners…"

Burner _noun –_ A prepaid cellphone typically used by drug dealers that are thrown away when minutes run out to prevent the cops from tracking or tapping.

"Someday, I'll get you in the twenty first century…" he grumbles heading into his room. "Goodnight, Miss Everdeen."

"Goodnight, Mister Mellark…" I frown a little when the door closes, half expecting a goodnight kiss.

I open up gmail and start the frustrating task of actually writing a long winded email.

_TO: pmellark _

_SUBJECT: Questions._

_First and foremost I'd like to thank you for your hospitality last night… And Friday. And for everything. I hate to rush you but I have a deadline… and it's close. Please get these back to me ASAP:_

_1) What made you decide to get into business?_

_2) What college did you go to?_

_3) What made you decide to donate to NYU?_

_4) Why the Arts?_

I flipped through the questions the rest of the staff wanted answered.

_I'm sorry, I didn't write a few of these (Almost all)_

_5) Do you have a girlfriend?_

_6) What are you doing to make your company more eco-friendly?_

_7) Roughly how many people do you employ?_

_8) Where were you born?_

I'm now positive the staff at the NYU paper don't have a coherent thought between them. These questions are so scattered…

_9) At what age were you adopted?_

Adopted? I didn't know that… _Ugh, I should have researched more!_

_Sorry if any of these are too personal, my staff wrote most of them and I'm pretty sure they were hitting the Everclear pretty hard, as always._

_Thanks again, for everything, I owe you big time…_

_Katniss Everdeen_

_Editor, Washington Square News, NYU_

I try to study for my exams, I really do. I go over my statistics notes again and again, as always getting frustrated with ANOVA's, until I think I finally get it before the day hits me.

I got a new job.

I quit my old job.

I went on an actual date, an actually _amazing_ date.

I just watched my house burn down.

Instead of lying with my aforementioned date, I'm hiding under a blanket.

His apartment feels so cold as I hunt for a guest room to shower in. I was disgusting. Sweat, tears and soot were invading every inch of my flesh. The room next to his is a bedroom with a very clean and streamline in-suite bathroom.

I have to search for the showerhead at first before deciding to turn on the water and spoil the surprise. A stream of warm water falls from the ceiling, lit by pale blue light. As I move the spigot from cold to hot the water goes from a deep blue to pale purple and finally red when the water is steaming. I test it and wince… Much too hot.

I settle somewhere in the lavender zone before stripping out of my red skirt and black top and letting the water rain down on me, beating away the stress of the day. I back up out of the stream and bump into something that makes a jet of water shoot out of the wall straight into my back.

I try to hold it in but the shock makes me yelp loudly. "This shower is booby trapped…," I grumble. What happened to a single head a few feet above mine that I could detach to rinse hard to reach areas?

I move again and bump into just what I was looking for.

If this is what his guest shower is like, I'm terrified of the master bath.

I towel dry my hair and pull on the t-shirt and shorts he gave me, taking a moment to take in his delicious aroma.

I squeeze my legs together, feeling the heat build as I remember his touch. If I go to him, what does that make me? Would he send me away?

I quietly open his door and stumble through the sitting area which is only lit by the silvery moonlight. He doesn't snore so it's difficult to tell whether or not he's asleep. Instead, I stand at the foot of his bed and watch him.

What was I thinking, wanting to pounce on him for sex? I could kick myself.

"Mmm…" he's lying on his stomach, one arm under his pillow, the other clutching one to his side. The sheet is already tangled in his legs, and I carefully free it from his long muscular legs. I crawl up like a cat from the foot of his bed, lay about a foot from him and gently work the pillow from his grasp.

He groaned and opened his eyes as the absence of his second pillow becomes known. "Hey…," I whisper resting my head on the soft dark pillow.

"Hey…" he loops his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, upgrading me from bedmate to replacement cuddle pillow in a matter of seconds.

* * *

I can immediately tell something's different when I wake up. For starters, the dusty smell of my apartment is missing and replaced by the warm rich smell of fresh body wash. I crack an eye open. It's early…way too early for me to be existing on a Tuesday.

"What are you doing?" I ask when my eyes meet Peeta's.

"Nothing…" he smirks. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to work, stay as long as you like."

I yawn and nod as he pulls the blankets up around my chin again. "Remember to respond to my email…," I grumble half asleep before he kisses me lightly on the lips even though I'm sure they're covered in dry drool and I can already taste my terrible morning breath.

"I already did," he pulls the blinds making it nice and dark. "What would my mother think, me sleeping with the press…?"

Though my eyes are closed, I point in his general direction. "Hey… That's almost press to you, mister…"

* * *

It's a much more agreeable time when I wake next. The green numbers on Peeta's clock radio tell me it's just past noon. "Shit!" I throw the covers off me and rush to the sitting room where my laptop and cellphone rest.

_A woman just dropped off boxes for you_, from Madge.

_Please come any time after 4, _from Cinna.

Wait… Boxes?

_Did you open them?_ I send while walking back into Peeta's room. I need to wash my face and brush my teeth so I can head over there ASAP.

I dig through his cabinets to maybe find a spare. He gave me the code to get into the place, left me alone, and let me sleep in his bed. Clearly I was welcome here, maybe not at my leisure… But I was welcome…I think. I definitely needed a toothbrush.

When I came up empty, I shrugged and decided his was good enough.

_I see you haven't seen fit to get me a toothbrush. I've slept here twice. _I hit send and push my hair back so I can splash water on my face to get rid of the sleep.

My phone vibrates. _I'll have Sae pick one up for you. Anything in particular?_

Definitely welcome. _Iunno, I kind of like yours._

The clothes I wore to Cinna's yesterday sit on the dresser clean and folded neatly. Another toiletry borrowed, I used Peeta's deodorant before putting my bra back on and slipping the black t-shirt over my head. I couldn't wear these panties again so I shoved them in my pocket once my jeans were on.

The penthouse appears to be empty when I emerge and head into Peeta's office.

_Call me whenever. I think at this point you owe me breakfast._

_Katniss_

_PS: 4892 Thompson Street_

I tape the note to his computer and after packing my bag, and head to the subway to move myself into Madge's apartment.

She lived right across the street from a playground and near an Art Therapy center which naturally lead to some interesting sights out her third floor window. It took two keys to get to my new home. Two keys and what felt like a literal fuck ton of stairs.

When I pushed the door open there were three large boxes in the entryway with my name on it. "What did you do… Mister Mellark…" I slide the boxes into the guest room before throwing my bag onto the clean bed.

I open the boxes. The first one was full of toiletries…expensive face wash, shampoo with French labels, a conditioner that smells just like lavender, and finally a toothbrush and toothpaste.

_Guess he did buy me one…_

I'm going to have to kick this man and hard.

The next two boxes are full of both fine silks and jeans. I rub the fabric between my fingers before noticing a note lost in a shirt.

_Mister Mellark told me you lost everything, so here's a little something to get you back on your feet._

_-Portia_

I laid the black silk across my chest, the shirt had no sleeves and silky ruffles in the front, but it was awkwardly long.

_Holy shit, this is a dress. Portia… I'm not a whore!_ I hang the clothes in the closet, the ruffly black piece one of several very short pieces, very not me. They were beautiful, too beautiful for me, a jeans and t-shirt girl.

Life is all about picking and choosing battles and this was one I let go, for now.

I opened my laptop to check whether or not Peeta answered my email.

_From: Peter Mellark_

_Subject: Re: Questions._

_1) What made you decide to get into business?_

_I always wanted to make something of myself, and it seemed like the easiest path. As it turns out being successful comes at a great sacrifice._

_2) What college did you go to?_

_The University of Pennsylvania._

_3) What made you decide to donate to NYU?_

_I liked what I saw._

_4) Why the Arts?_

_Without the Arts, what are we? Primates who happen to occasionally form a coherent sentence and kill each other over the most foolish of reasons. Art is civilization, it's culture, it's life._

_5) Do you have a girlfriend?_

_I would like to think I do, but she hasn't said yes yet._

_6) What are you doing to make your company more eco-friendly?_

_We're almost entirely paper-free and working on making our buildings run on solar power. Besides that the obvious elimination of incandescent bulbs, if we need paper have it come from recycled paper, and we encourage our employees to carpool or use public transportation._

_7) Roughly how many people do you employ?_

_Somewhere between 15,000 and 17,000 between the businesses I own. Though that number is growing due to the fact that we are one of the only companies who continued hiring during the recession._

_8) Where were you born?_

_Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania_

_9) At what age were you adopted?_

_8_

_Anything else? I would like to know more about you, Miss Everdeen. Please answer these questions to the best of your knowledge. I don't have a deadline; I'm just sure I'll be bored at work._

_1) Have you lived anywhere outside of New York state?_

_2) Where are your parents?_

_3) Why did you decide to go to NYU?_

_4) Why journalism._

_5) You should be on Broadway, not behind a desk._

_6) Ok, so number five isn't a question, it's a suggestion. This isn't a question either._

_7) Have you been in any other plays before?_

_8) I have an event this Friday, will you go with me?_

_9) If yes, will you allow me to introduce you as my girlfriend or shall you be my 'friend'?_

_Good luck with your move, and don't argue about the packages waiting for you at your new home, they're a gift._

_Peter Mellark_

_CEO Mellark Enterprises_

_Ps: Try and avoid making me look like a pompous jerk._

I sprawled out on the full sized bed and began typing away at the article.

_When I was guided up to office of Peter 'Peeta' Mellark the day after the NYU Charity Masquerade I was expecting to see a stuffy, old, serious businessman. Never did I expect to meet with the twenty-nine year old CEO of one of the largest privately owned companies in the world. After I embarrassed myself by admitting I was expecting someone older Mister Mellark decided it was inappropriate to conduct our Saturday interview trapped in his top floor office. After a short ride to the famous Serendipity 3, Mr. Mellark and I got down to business._

_During the course of the previous week the staff at the Washington Square News bounced questions off each other they wanted answered. Naturally these questions had to be thoughtful, but seeing as I was now seated across from one of the richest men in the country at an elegant wrought iron table, an old tarnished mirror to my side and a general whimsy about the Alice and Wonderland style restaurant, discussing business plans and hostile takeovers was off the table._

_We get the most obvious question out first. Why did you get into business? He smiles faintly, telling me about how he's always wanted to make something of himself. After college at the University of Pennsylvania he was hired at an unnamed company, but soon decided that there were major improvements that could be made and started his own company at the age of Twenty-one. Now eight years later it's obvious that, besides the sacrifices he's had to make over the years and the sixty hour work weeks, he made the right choice._

_He freely admits he like what he's seeing coming out of NYU especially art wise, and can be quoted saying, "Without the Arts, what are we? Primates who happen to occasionally form a coherent sentence and kill each other over the most foolish of reasons, that's what. Art is civilization, it's culture, it's life."_

_Moving onto less deep topics I ask him how such a large company tries to reduce its impact on the ecosystem. The company, that employs over fifteen thousand, is proud to say it's almost paperless, using environmentally friendly, recycled paper. Mellark Enterprises is on its way to running on solar energy because the elimination of incandescent bulbs was only a step in the right direction._

_Finally, the most important question._

_The one the women at the Washington Square News were most avid about me getting answered._

_Was Mister Peter Mellark single?_

_Sorry ladies, he's happy to say he's off the market._

I continue chewing on my nail, reading over and over again, tweaking it slightly to not make it seem like I was gloating about going out to lunch with Peeta, and that I didn't make him sound like a stuck up ass.

I send the article to the senior editor, the one actually in charge of the paper, my professor, and another to Peeta, with the subject: I thought you might want to read this over. I'll get to your questions after work.

"Ugh… Work…" Fortunately, I don't need to shower. What does one wear to my 'job'? Is there a dress code for Model Training?

I swap shirts and run out the door, needing to catch my train in the next five minutes in order to not be late.

I send a quick text to Madge telling her if I got out early enough I'd buy a bottle of wine or a twelve pack for my housewarming before descending into the underground of NYC.

The second I get off at Madison, my phone begins vibrating.

_Leave it to a journalist to twist words to her liking. Guess I have to change my Facebook relationship status?,_ Peeta sends. I roll my eyes.

_I didn't need them knowing all the gory details and that it took my home burning to the ground for you to answer my questions. Now, have a nice night. I'm off to work. _I shove my phone in my bag and enter the building, judgmental doorman and all.

* * *

"Ouch…," I wince as a wax strip is pulled from my eyebrow.

"Sorry! You've just let them go for so long!" I didn't want to tell Venia… or was it Octavia… that I had plucked my eyebrows just last week, "I hate to see what you have growing between your legs!"

I squeeze my legs shut. "Oh Octavia, have you no shame?" Flavius groans while filing my nails.

Day one of my training? Make me look 'human' as they told me while brushing the hair on my head, and ripping out the hairs on my face.

"Should we exfoliate?" the other woman asks, stroking my cheek with her thumb. "Nope, baby soft!" she giggles before going to work on my toes. "Oh my! Katniss your heels! They're like sandpaper…"

I roll my eyes before closing them again, trying to black out the three little birds pecking at my flesh to make me 'human'.

_$65 an hour to do this… You're making a week's pay pre-tip in one hour._ I wince again as above my lip is waxed, I never even noticed hair up there.

"Do you want us to take care of your bikini area?" Octavia asks, making me squeeze my legs tighter.

"N-no thank you," I stutter at the thought.

"Ok! Now…" they stand me up and hand me a mirror. "You're really not too bad looking," Octavia smiles.

"Thanks… I think…" I run my index fingers along my now thin eyebrows.

Flavius pulls out his phone. "Tell me what else we have for this evening?" he asks the phone.

The phone pings twice and a female voice responds, "Ok, here is your meeting."

"Looks like Cinna has nothing else planned for tonight. He wants us to pay her through ten o'clock, but you'll get your check on Friday. Oh!" He slaps his forehead. "Siri, remind me tomorrow at nine to print out the schedule"

"Here is your reminder," the phone says in that sweet computer voice that sounds almost too polite.

"You know, since you insist on using that ancient thing," he points to my charging cellphone.

"I'll get a new one…" I grumble. I still have plenty of money from Peeta's exorbitant tip. "I'm sick of loading this one with minutes anyway."

Flavius makes a face, "I thought only drug dealers used those things."

* * *

I pick up a bottle of Yellow Tail Moscato and to keep it classy two six packs of PBR pounders before heading back to Madge's.

"Honey I'm home!" I shout closing the door with my foot.

"Oh good!" she chirps. "I ordered Chinese take-out. Veggie fried rice and sweet and sour chicken?"

"With some PBR pounders?" I open a can and hand it to her. "Cheers, to partying like we're freshmen again!" We clink cans.

"Oh you got Moscato! But we should save this for after the beer is gone. You know, keeping it classy."

I chuckle as she heads to let the delivery man in. "Hey honey, do you have that straw fedora? I want to jam with my inner hipster," I ask as I find the hat discarded on a coffee table. "Perfect!" I tell her as I roll up my pant legs and keep my converse on.

"I don't drink PBR, it's too mainstream," she chuckles as she unpacks the take-out.

"Margaret Undersee, no dinner until you finish your beer!"

She makes an 'o' with her mouth before sitting down, "Yes mommy."

"Ew, Madge, watch your language. That's a vile word…" I shudder. My five, ten and fifteen year plans didn't include children. Hell, they barely included another human being. "Mister Mellark and I have only been a couple for a few hours. We haven't even discussed breeding."

She chokes on her rice, "Katniss Everdeen, in a relationship. Like… _dating_?" I nod, blushing a little. "I figured you swore off men after well… Cato."

I flick at the pull tab on the can and finish it off, "Well… I can't dwell on that asshole for the rest of my life can I?" I tell her glumly while wrestling with a piece of chicken. "I'm moving in the right direction. I'm out of that shitty apartment, that shitty job," I hold up another beer. "Watch out New York, Katniss Everdeen is finally finding her footing."

Madge rolls her eyes, "Please, the only time I've ever seen you stumble was when you ran down Peeta on Friday."

I groan and put my head down on the table, "I will _never_ live this down…"

I tease Madge about Gale, she picks for information about Peeta and before long one six pack is gone and we've moved onto the wine. "You know, beer before liquor you'll never be sicker? They never said anything about wine…"

There's a knocking at the door. "The Anderson's down stares have been told five times to not prop the door open!" Madge hisses.

"It's fine, an honest mistake."

I open the door, the slide lock only letting me peak at the person outside: Flavius.

"Flavius!" I close the door and throw it open once the lock is undone. "What are you doing here?"

"Cinna sent me with this!" He hands me a small white box, "It's for work, and personal things. Basically…" He steps inside and opens the box. "I saw you gawking at my iPhone and Cinna thought you'd need one for work. Especially since he would like you to accompany him to Paris in three weeks," He lets the shock sink in…me? Paris?

"There are a ton of apps that will translate for you, of you can just try and learn some key phases like, 'thank you', 'hello', and 'Where's the bathroom?'"

_What am I getting myself into?_

"_My_ phrase of choice is always 'Would you like to see my room?'" he winks.

"No thank you, I'm taken…" I unlock my new work phone, and personal phone, and apparently personal assistant since when I hold down the one button on the thing Siri comes to life.

"Well, good, now, I have to get going! See you tomorrow!" he kisses both my cheeks and like a haute couture tornado is gone.

"Who was _that?_" Madge asked, "He looked like Fashion week on steroids!"

I chuckle and put the slide lock back in the door and transferring some key numbers Cinna didn't have. My mother, Madge, Johanna, Annie, and finally Peeta.

_I would like to inform you that this is my new number. Cinna got me a 'work phone'._

_-Belle (Aka Katniss)_

Typing on a touch screen is hard.

"That's Flavius, my bosses assistant. He wanted to let me know I'd need this when I go to Paris in three weeks."

"Oh, Paris, I love that city!" she puts her hands over her heart and practically swoons.

My new phone pings.

_Finally. _Peeta replies.

"I know we still have beer… But I'm opening the wine to celebrate!" Madge vacations in Paris at least once a year, "Ah! Mon Paris! Tu me manques!"

It's amazing how it only took one night for Madge and I to slip back into our old habits, Chinese take-out, nursing cheap beer and chasing it with delicious wine, and staying up until three am gushing about boys and panicking about our futures.

Tomorrow was the first day of reading 'week', five days where we have no classes and are supposed to study. My first semester I discovered quickly it meant wild parties and students sleeping on campus furniture, and little to no studying was done until twelve hours before finals.

"Shit…" I grumble at around two when the wine is gone and we're watching re-runs of Jerry Springer, "I have to be at work at three and I have the play!" though NYU's production of _Beauty and the Beast_ has run its course we're bringing it back for one afternoon for the children at a few schools.

"Just text your boss, or call like really early. Not Katniss early, but _human_ early."

Sleeping until two pm was not one of my finest traits.

"Hey phone, can you remind me to call Cinna tomorrow at nine?"

She pings twice, "Here is the reminder I made for you."

"This thing is going to take away my ability to think… Though if she can find me a good Indian Buffet I'll fogive her."

Madge giggles, already three sheets to the wind, "It's like two am!"

I roll my eyes, "Alright, kiddo, time for bed," I try and haul her up but she makes her body like Jell-o, "Or sleep here!"

She flops down and gives me the thumbs up, "Love you Katniss!" she giggles.

I roll my eyes, _Oh Madge…_

* * *

**A lot of you wanted Katniss to move in with Peeta... That's not too practical! It would be nice and fluffy... But they've only just met!**_  
_


	7. Love the Way You Lie

**Firstly I'd like to thank my amazing beta apecanin1 who is amazing and brave enough to tame this tail... I mean tale.**_  
_

**Second! I added titles to the chapters! They all go with a song that I don't own the rights to! I'm going to go through and add the titles and artists at the beginning of the chapter but... I take the uploaded chapter off as soon as I update to reduce clutter. Yeah... That makes sense right?**

**For those of you who are curious and don't want to go through it... The chapters and songs are as follows:**

**Chapter One: Enchanted, Taylor Swift**

**Chapter Two: Hung Up, Madonna**

**Chapter Three: Paper Planes, MIA**

**Chapter Four: Into the Wild, LP**

**Chapter Five: We Owned the Night, Lady Antebellum**

**Chapter Six: Fallen Interlude, Blink-182**

**Chapter Seven: Love the Way You Lie, Eminem feat. Rihanna **

**Thirdly! I will be putting an important authors note at the bottom of this chapter!**

**Onward! I don't own anything!**

* * *

_Where am I?_ Light poured through the open blinds. I licked my lips, which were dry as a bone.

Freshman night had freshman consequences, which right now was a very mild hangover that would probably be cured through a glass of water and some Motrin, which I'd need to entertain children.

Two bottles of water and four Motrin…add that to a hot shower and I was a functional human being again.

"Did you call Cinna?" Madge yawned from the couch.

I sucked in air and ran for my phone. "Way to go!" she shouted from the other room as I paced around, trying to call him. It was eight… Wait, I wanted to call at nine.

Was eight too early?

"Hello Katniss," he greeted cheerfully. _Oh thank god… _it was like a weight is lifted off my shoulders.

"Good morning Cinna. Thanks for the phone; it may take me a while to figure out how to use it though…"

He chuckled, "Take your time Mademoiselle Everdeen."

"I will… Listen, I have a presentation of my play today until about four thirty… I'll be a little late." I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Do not fret! I'll have dinner waiting when you get here!"

Cray would have chewed me out about how I shouldn't be worrying about my name up in lights because I had no talent. Cinna, on the other hand, was feeding me dinner for my tardiness.

I took my armful of toiletries, lining them up on the bottom of Madge's stall shower…My stall shower.

Our stall shower?

This one was far less complicated…only one shower head.

"You're running late, as always!" Madge teased as I devoured an orange.

"I'll sit on you…" She hasn't moved from the couch since reminding me to call my boss. Now, her face was nestled between the cushion and the back of the couch. "Did you drink more after I went to bed?"

"No… Yes… Wait… I think I called Gale!" she flailed wildly while rolling over, her bare foot meeting my chest.

"Watch it!" I jumped up and handed her what she's looking for, her cellphone.

"Nope… Just…" her brow furrowed, "Wait… Yeah… Didn't dream that, forty minutes."

I slapped my forehead. Madge was famous for drunk dialing. "At lead you didn't call anyone you'd regret talking to."

She was blushing, "I may have told him it was the best sex of my life? Oh god, I have a date with him tomorrow!" She scrolled through more of her calls, "And I took a call from a… 310 number?"

"Where's that? Oh! I can ask my phone…" I pressed the button in, "Phone, where's the 310 area code?" She let me know that she was searching in her proper, kind voice.

"Know anyone in LA?" I asked, showing her the map Siri has brought up for me.

"Isn't that where…" she bit her lip as the realization hit me like a train.

There's one person who would call Madge Undersee at two forty five in the morning because he was so inconsiderate he didn't realize the change in time zone.

Cato Snow.

"If he calls again, don't answer," I got up and grabbed my purse.

"And if he shows up here again?" I slipped my feet into my converse. They go perfectly with my jean shorts and black shirt.

"Then we call the cops as he enrages down at street level. You should tell the Andersons to not prop the door open. You know Cato has a 'Katniss is happy' sense…" I grumbled. "I'll be back late or… I think I'm going to stop by Peeta's after work. Have a good day!"

"Sing pretty!"

I knew I wasn't being watched, but I sure as hell felt paranoid about it. Yeah, we haven't confirmed Madge's mystery drunk pick-up, but who else in LA would be calling her?

* * *

"The girl who played Belle, why did you want to act?" I sat on the stage on my knees, my yellow ball gown hiding my legs. The fifty or so children were allotted a short question and answer session.

I bit my lip. I've always wanted to sing, but I wasn't allowed to for the last few years because of Cato. "To be honest, I didn't. I just wanted to sing. When I found out they were doing my favorite movie I tried out… It took hours and hours to make me a believable actress. Poor Cressida, our director. I think three weeks into rehearsal wanted to fire me because I was so stiff and awkward."

The kids asked if the Beast's costume was itchy, if the choreography during _Be Our Guest_ was hard to learn. Our Gaston talked about one night how he watched Lumiere and someone dressed like a fork ran into each other and almost ruined the whole number. We chuckled at the good memory. This was the last time the cast would be assembled.

"Are you going to do another play next year?" a little girl with blonde hair and bright green eyes asked us.

Cressida choose to answer this one. "Unfortunately not with this group, most of our cast including Belle, Gaston and Misses Potts are graduating next Wednesday. They actually should get going to study for finals."

We lined up in full costume with the kids to get a picture. "You look like the lady from the paper!" one of the girls told me.

We posed for the picture. "The play's been in the paper before," I said idly.

"No! From this morning. Mommy left it open while I was eating breakfast!" the little girl told me before running to her friends.

_Maybe from the party Friday?_ I shrugged it off.

I rushed back to the dressing rooms to get stripped from my lace up gown. "Holy crap it's good to breathe…," I chuckled, standing in my underwear as the Belle gown was put on the hanger for another woman to wear in the future. I pulld on my bra and jeans, my phone pinging to let me know I have a message…

Five of them, all from Madge.

_What did I say to him?_

_Why didn't you take my phone away?_

_I would have found the landline and called him anyway._

_Remember that time we hid all the phones in Throm's apartment and he was so angry he ripped his shirt… Then returned it the next day?_

One of our friends who has long since graduated tended to get drunk and call his exes, we had to protect him. He got so angry at us that he tore his wife beater, then the next morning folded it back up and shoved it between the two other in the packaging and returned it. Then, instead of being smart and leaving as soon as possible, he walked around the store for another half hour, buying the same item.

_Crisis averted, we had a heart to heart last night. We're going to dinner tonight. Wish me luck!_

I rolled my eyes. God damn it, Madge…

I sent a text to Peeta. _I'll be in your neck of the woods… Can I come over? I miss your smug face._

I shoved my phone in my pocket, rushing out of the theater and bidding everyone a fond farewell. We had already had our closing night dinner, our goodbyes were said but I could say a few more.

I basically ran back home, throwing the door open as I huffed to my room to change and make myself presentable.

_I'll be counting the minutes_. Peeta sent as my hand found the little black maybe shirt maybe dress item.

It was going to be one of those nights, but I decided to keep it classy and pull on a strapless bustier dress which ties in the back. The bright floral pattern stood out against the white background and I slipped on a pair of white heels.

"Do I look like a model?" I asked the mirror as I mussed up my hair. "Do I look like a millionaire's girlfriend?"

I flicked at the choker around my neck and slapped on a leather cuff that was in the box. "Who cares?" I finally chuckled before heading outside.

On the way to the subway I saw a newsstand and bought the only paper that would answer my questions - the New York Post.

"Thank you," I purchased a water bottle and descended into the Underground. I had five minutes until my train came so I turned to Page Six, New York's source for both country wide, but a fair amount of local celebrity gossip.

_Sightings_, I read about celebrities at clubs before I saw it at the bottom of the page. Peeta and I in the park, me covering him in dandelions, then another of us kissing. _Shit… _

_Local billionaire, Peter Mellark was seen cozying up with this unknown woman. The pair shared a romantic evening in Central Park, then at the Upper East Side restaurant the Rogue Tomate…_

I gagged a little and shoved the paper in my purse. Was this what I was going to have to deal with?I refuse to read any more about my date with Peeta. Did he know about this? Did he deal with this crap every time he went out?

* * *

"You have the _worst_ posture," Venia groaned, positioning my body for the umpteenth time. "Clasp your hands behind your back." I did so. "Push out your chest. You don't have much, so flaunt it!" I rolled my eyes and pushed out my bosom, "There… Now, walk, one foot in front of the other, not parallel."

I took a deep breath. Step one of the 'Model Walk', good posture. We were stuck at one. I had a tendency to slouch - I was slightly pigeon toed. Also, my head bobbed too much when I walked, whatever that meant.

I found it easier at this time to keep my pinkies clasped together to make sure my posture was perfect. One foot literally in front of the other my heels clicked on the pale wood floor as Cinna and Viena watched my every move. "Bravo!" Cinna sipped on his tea. "Now, let go of your hands, and walk to the door."

I groaned. We had been at this four two hours. I was making over $120 to walk across the room, I really couldn't complain.

I did what he asked. _Head still, arms at my side, one foot literally in front of the other._

I walked from the back of the main room to the front door and when I reached the end I dramatically stepped one foot forward, pushing my hip out and placing my hands on my hips. "Magnifique!" Cinna applauded and for the first time tonight, I felt like I _could_ do this.

"Now, turn and walk back." Learning how to walk was supposed to happen before you were one year old, not twenty one!

I pivoted awkwardly and Cinna cringed, "We'll work on that tomorrow… Then you'll have the weekend off." I sat down at my vacant spot on the couch. "Now, we discuss Paris."

"Yeah… About that… I don't think I'm ready for the catwalk…"

Cinna chuckled, "Oh, my no, but, there's a small show. You can bring someone if you like… We'll be there for a few days though I'll have to get back to work preparing for September, than and you will be returning alone since I don't think I can be away from Paris much longer. New York is… Different."

I chuckled and nodded, "It is, but it's home."

"We leave two Thursday's from now. We'll meet here of course." I nodded. "Don't worry about anything, I will prepare everything. You just worry about enjoying Paris!"

I felt better about everything after leaving Cinna's. The doorman, who finally didn't think I was some common riffraff tipped his hat to me as I walked into the humid May air.

I was distracted by my phone, the little pinging alerting me that I had an email. Like an idiot, I began walking. It was from Flavius about my Parisian Itinerary, a long schedule that he said he added to my Google Calendar which put it on my phone. "Oof!" I blushed as I ploughed straight into the back of a poor pedestrian, "Sorry… I-"

The man turned around slowly, his fists balled, ready to strike, "Watch where you're-" He stopped, his cold, dark brown, almost black eyes widening.

"Cato…" I gasped turning on my heels knowing he could strike at any moment.

"Katniss Everdeen, you get back here!" he spat, grabbing for my wrist but yet again I slipped through his grasp.

"Go to hell!" I shouted over my shoulder.

It was nighttime. Madison Ave was disserted and here I was, being followed by a guy I wasted a few years of my life on, while he used me as a punching bag.

"Taxi!" I shouted, seeing a yellow cab turn onto the street. "Taxi!" The man slowed and I got in, Cato on my heels as I locked both doors.

"Sixty-ninth and Fifth!" I panted.

"Are you kidding? That's like less than 10 blocks!" the driver grumbled.

"I will give you a hundred dollars if you leave right now!" Cato ripped on the door.

"Now you're talking… Who's he?"

Cato slammed his palm on the window, "Baby, get out of the fucking cab and let's talk!"

"Drive, now!"

I caught my breath on the short drive, and handed the cabby my fare plus a hundred dollars. I didn't care what he did with it - he got me away from Cato.

"You look like you've seen a ghost Sweetheart." Abernathy smirked as I straightened out my dress.

"That bad huh? Cinna worked me good tonight," I replied casually. I didn't need Peeta's bodyguard hearing about my mishap. Cato would get the picture eventually. Though, how many hundred dollar cab drives could I afford?

He took a drag from his cigarette, offering me his lighter. I calmed myself with a sweet drag from a Marlboro. _Could he have followed me here?_ I thought in a panic. I could have lead Cato to Peeta.

Jealous, sick, twisted Cato.

"Haymitch?" I asked quietly. "I have a problem and I need your advice…"

He snorted, "Listen sweetheart, I'm not much for girl problems… But I'm sure it'll be entertaining."

"Ass…" I grumbled. "Listen, say hypothetically I have a friend who was with a guy for like two years who liked to hit her," he nodded and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "And say this person moved away, but is now back calling my friend's friends and just ran into her on say… Madison and 79th, and got really pissed off when she ran away and called cab."

"I'm picking you up from work from now on. Come on, we have to tell Mister Mellark."

He went to head in and I grabbed his hand, "No! Haymitch please! I'll tell him myself, but I don't want to ruin this night. Please?"

"Fine… But I'm still getting you from work," Why did he care?

"Sure…"

"And home, I've seen enough young girls end up in allies because of abusive boyfriends, or ex-boyfriends." I took another drag.

"Why do you care?" I asked, flicking away my ash. "I'm just some other girl…"

"Well, I was told today to protect you by Mister Mellark. I've grown quite fond of the kid, and you make him happy. He actually leaves his office now."

I nodded and put my butt in the smoker's tree. "Thank you, I'll see you inside."

"Probably not, but have fun."

I hurried to the elevator, imputing the code from memory. As always, Peeta left the door after the elevator unlocked. "Honey I'm home!" I shouted, but I heard giggling - women giggling.

"Peeta?" I asked, nervous. Did he have women over? Was that allowed?

"Not quite!" a British woman chirped from the living room. "Thought you'd never arrive!"

I set my bag down. A blonde with wavy hair and blue eyes and a curly haired African woman sipped on cocktails while watching what I think was the latest Twilight movie.

"I'm sorry, we've met before but I had a mask on. I'm Primrose. This is Rue my friend from London."

London. Primrose Mellark had friends from _London_.

"A pleasure. We go to school together, or went."

Prim chuckled, "Definitely went!"

"Nice to meet you," I shook both their hands. "Where's Peeta?"

Prim sighed and flopped back down on the couch. "In his office. Peeta's _always_ in his office…," she grumbled. "He said we'd go out tonight too…" she huffed like a spoiled child.

I bit my lip, "I should go then, I don't want to take your time away from your brother…"

"No! I bugged him to let me meet you!" she grabbed my hand. "You should go in a coax him out with your feminine whiles…" she wiggled her eyebrows as I bit my lip again.

"Fine… I do owe him a-"

"EWWWW!" Prim put her hands over her ears. "Too much information!"

I knocked lightly on the office door, "Peeta?" I opened the door slowly and poked my head in, "What are you doing in here?" I closed it behind me.

He seemed uncomfortable by my presence, stiffening as I crossed the room to the giant window. This was a perfect time to tell him about Cato, he was already put off by me invading his space. "Reading a business report," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is it night already?" he asked in a dreary voice.

"Prim and her friend Rue are waiting for you," I held out my hand. "Come on, I didn't wear this dress and these heels so you could hide in your office all night."

He groaned, but didn't budge, so I swiveled his chair and climbed into his lap. "They told me to use my feminine wiles on you," I ground my groin into his. "I'm not wearing any underwear…" I whispered.

"In this short dress?"

I shook my head no. "They were all dark and I could see them, so I went without." He lifted the hem of my dress and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I lied…" I climbed off him and hooked my hands in my panties, tugging them down.

"Oops…" I bit on my index finger. "Do you want me, Mister Mellark?"

I backed up a little as he got out of his chair, picking up my underwear and shoving them in his pocket. "You're staying the night…" he said finally. "Now, come."

We settled for second dinner at a quiet Thai restaurant. Rue and Prim were speaking endlessly about their adventures clubbing in London as Peeta's hand rests on my thigh. I shifted uneasily; knowing how little separated his fingers from where I wanted them the most.

"Are you ok, Katniss?" Rue asked, noting my flushed face.

"Y-yeah," Peeta's hand crept higher under the table cloth. "Just spicy."

His hand went higher and I leaned into him, having moved our chairs close enough that they were almost touching. "So what's London like? I'm going there in September. It'll be the only city on my trip where I actually speak the language."

I listened to them gush but couldn't pay attention. Peeta's finger traced up and down the moisture between my legs. Going without underwear was a terrible idea! I should have tackled him and stolen them back.

What was I thinking!

The finger slipped inside me and I stifled a groan. The restaurant was basically empty and the two girls were discussing the fanfare of the Royal Wedding last year.

He didn't move his hand, but just sit there, torturing me. I went for my water, shooting Peeta a dirty look while sipping on the cool liquid. When the girls were fully engrossed in their conversation, he bent his finger up, putting pressure right on my sweet spot.

I gasped into my water, nearly choking.

_Please draw the blinds, everyone leave, I need my brains fucked out… Now!_ The finger retreated and I shuddered, missing the torturous sensation.

"So what are you wearing?" Prim leaned in to the table, her chin nestled in her palm.

"A dress?" I asked, confused about what she's talking about.

"No silly! To the Met Gala this Friday!"

"Katniss and I haven't exactly discussed that, Prim." Her mouth formed an 'o' and Peeta shot me an apologetic look, "Katniss hasn't seen her dress yet, but it's one of Cinna's. This will be our first event together." He squeezed my knee, "You're going to stop hearts."

I had reported on the Met Gala for the last four years… never in my life did I think I would be going. "You don't want to bring me to something like that… There are famous people there. I shook hands with Beyoncé last year when I reported on it for the school paper."

"Of course your brother would date a reporter…"

"Reporter, singer, actress, model," I drank the broth of my coconut chicken soup.

"Katniss plays Belle at NYU. She's an amazing singer," Prim gushed to Rue, I blushed and looked up at Peeta.

For someone who's attracting the spot light as I am, it sure makes me uncomfortable, "I'm not that good… Our dress rehearsal is on YouTube if you want to basically see the play. Even our gift to the director where we swapped parts for _Be Our Guest_, she was Belle, I was Lumiere, our Gaston was I think Misses Potts," I bit my lip, trying to stifle a laugh as I remembered poor Cressida's face as we performed an almost perfectly executed cast swap.

"Oh my god, show us, now!" I shook my head no.

"No phones at the dinner table," I scolded. "Just search for it later."

Rue pouted, but went back to her fish. "We could always make you do karaoke. Prim here gets really pitchy after she's had a few drinks in her." Prim blushed.

"Aren't you two only eighteen?"

"The drinking age in the United Kingdom is eighteen, which is the only reason those two were allowed to be drinking in my apartment. Don't let mom and dad see that when you're up in the Hamptons this weekend."

"But, you'll be there! And Katniss, mom and dad would love her… Well…" I was busy twirling noodles around my fork. "Mom will do what she does when any of us bring home someone."

"What does she do?" Rue asked as I twirled my noodles around my fork.

"Watches them like a hawk, calling them 'gold digger' under her breath until they prove otherwise."

Rue looked shocked. "It's understandable," I started. "She's trying to protect her children… But I'm not going to the Hamptons this weekend."

"Please?" Prim whined. "Peeta will be off with our brothers. We could have girl's nights!"

"I have finals to not study for and…" Prim and Rue began a synchronized pout that could probably render Superman useless. "Fine… But I'm bringing my textbooks- that probably burned up when my apartment…" I crossed my arms. "You guys win."

Peeta reached for his pocket. "One minute, it's Effie…" He excused himself from the table and I was left with two eighteen year olds who could probably pout me into robbing a bank.

"I like you Katniss," Prim said once Peeta was out of ear shot. "Peeta's last love interest was well… Only in it for the money… I think you see past it, or at least you're good at pretending."

"I made Peeta ride the subway and go to Times Square. If I was pretending I wouldn't have made him send Haymitch home."

It was Prim's turn to choke. "You did not…," she gasped. "First you get him out of his Ivory Tower, then you get him in the subway. Please, work on his cellphone habit and his office addiction…"

I chuckled as Peeta joined us again. "My one appointment tomorrow canceled, so I have tomorrow afternoon off," he smiled, his eyes lighting up like a child's. "Do you have work tomorrow night?"

I shook my head no. Cinna and I had agreed to a three day schedule and I would be off until Wednesday. "But I have to go to my place and see what's salvageable, if anything…" the only thing I really needed from there was my passport, which was with my birth certificate in a fire proof box under my old bed.

We bid Prim and Rue goodnight. They were staying with one of their brothers, leaving the penthouse empty for Peeta and me to keep the neighbors up.

"I have Friday off too…" I mentioned as we enjoy the evening air. "Since you have me going to the Met Gala… Should I stay the night?" I asked awkwardly. If he bit the hook I'd get to spend Thursday through Sunday with my Prince Charming.

"That saves time. Cinna's trio is showing up at noon to help you get ready. Apparently, they think it'll take most of the day…"

I chuckled, "You should have seen them fussing about my hair and my eyebrows, it's like I was a yeti." I took his hand and leaned into him. "But, I need to go to my apartment and get clothes."

"I bought you a toothbrush," he told me proudly.

I pouted, "But I liked yours…" we were half way across town. A cab drove by, bringing me back to Cato. I have to tell him. If he were to find out from a third party, all hell will break loose. "Subway or taxi?"

"Taxi, the subway was too hot." I rolled my eyes. _Priss._

"Then get us one big spender," he looked confused. "My god, and you call yourself a New Yorker! Here, hold out your hand." He followed me and almost immediately, a car pulled up. "Sometimes you have to yell." He held the door open for me and I slid in.

"Where to?" my breath caught. It was the same cabby as earlier. My eyes will him to not say anything.

"SoHo… Erm, Spring and Thompson."

"In less of a rush this time, eh little miss?" I looked up at Peeta who had his eyebrow cocked. "Not being chased?"

I stopped myself from beating my head against the glass. "What?" Peeta asked shortly, squeezing my hand, trying to get me to look at him but I couldn't.

"Can we talk about this when we get back to my place? It's a long story…" the warm lustful air between us had turned arctic cold.

_I want my hundred bucks back!_

Peeta barely waited for me to close the door behind us. "What was he talking about? Who was chasing you?"

I swallowed hard and walked farther into the apartment, "Want a drink?"

"Damn it, Katniss!" he snapped. "Stop avoiding the question…"

I opened the fridge and pulled out a coke, peaking over the half wall. He still hasn't moved. "Peeta, sit down. Now," I snapped. If I was going to divulge my past, he was going to actually move from the door.

He sighed and flopped down on the couch. He was so out of place here. Yeah, the apartment was nice, but it was _my_ home now. I could only cringe, thinking of him in my old place.

"When I came to New York I didn't know anyone. I mean, besides Madge, she was my roommate for my first year at NYU. We went to a party one night and I met…" I gulped and join him on the couch. I needed him for this, even if he was pissed at me.

He shifted away from me – bad sign. "I met a man named Cato Snow, he was a spoiled, snob, but I was dumb and young, I was in an unfamiliar city, and I was inexperienced in the romance department… I still am," I bit my lip, "Everything was fine for the first few months, then I realized Cato was basically riding on the coat-tails of his uncle…" I sat on my knees.

_Deep breath Everdeen, you can do this._ I felt the tears come to my eyes. "November of my freshman year I decided I wanted to go out for the play. I always loved singing and I thought I could get a small part for fun. I told him and he…" My voice caught. "Smacked me… So I hit back, which made it worse. He grabbed me by the hair and told him that I was his and he wasn't going to let me do anything that could put me on a pedestal for the world to see. After he hit me again for arguing I ran from his apartment…"

"Oh god, Katniss…" Peeta took my hand but I pulled away.

"I- I'm not done… The next morning there were white roses waiting outside my dorm, two dozen with an apology," I bit my lip, "I was so young and so fucking stupid… I believed him… But he got worse, every time he'd hit I would fight back, and he'd hit harder, until I learned. Every time I left he'd just get angrier and he'd hit harder. One time he…" I looked away from Peeta's stupid gawking face.

"Don't look at me god damn it!" I hissed and he looked away. I rubbed the back of my scalp. "One night when I was leaving him he grabbed my hair and slammed me into the coffee table. I woke up two days later to a hospital room full of roses…"

I gulped. "Finally, he graduated and was moving to LA to work for his uncle. He told me to come with him and I… I refused…" I looked down at my hands. "I threw every single gift he ever gave me at him. Every ring, every necklace, every little trinket… I was free… I had a black eye, a bruised rib, and a sprained wrist from it… But I was free."

I bit my lip. "Now… now he's back. I saw him when I was leaving Cinna's and… and I ran and he followed until I hailed a cab."

"I'll kill him… Katniss, I'll kill him for what he did to you!" he hissed, pulling me into his chest.

"No, please, Peeta… See this is why when I told Haymitch I made him let me tell you. Please don't ruin this night, and don't go thermonuclear on poor Abernathy for not rushing with Katniss's dirty little secret," I got up and head for my room. This was the past, it was ugly, but it was over. I was ready to move on and forget. "Are you going to help me pick out my clothes for the next… like four days or will you trust me?"

He looked at me shocked, but got up, "Lead the way, Madame."

I curtsied, the anger and awkwardness forgotten for now. "Oh you have an iHome. Here I thought you were living in squalor," Peeta flopped down on my bed without even asking and docked his phone.

I rolled my eyes and pulled out my backpack, "I have to get a duffle from Madge's room…" Kings of Leon started streaming from the speakers as Peeta went through my limited wardrobe.

When I reached Madge's dark room, I sat on her bed. I had just told Peeta my deepest darkest secret… And instead of looking at me like I was damaged, like I had expected him to… He basically wanted to protect me, in his own savage way.

I took the grey duffle from Madge's closet and returned, only to have my underwear from earlier hit me in the face, "Peeta!" I threw the bag at him. "Ass…"

I moved to my dresser, pulling out the essentials - underwear, bra's, socks… Check.

Two hands found my hips and I gasped. "Ready to finish what we started?"

I bit my lip. "Are you going to try and embarrass me again?"

He lifted up my skirt and spanked me lightly, "Not tonight. Instead, I'll watch you find a way to do it yourself." I stuck out my tongue. He already knew how bad I was at social events! Great!

Why was he taking me to the Met!

I was pulled away from my inner raging when a finger slipped inside me. "A quickie here, then back to my place?"

He arched his finger again, hitting me in another sweet spot. "Oh god, yes, please…," I panted as I heard his belt clink as it hit the ground, followed by his pants.

"Hold onto the dresser and spread your legs a little more…" I did so, as his finger straightened and bent. Subconsciously, I ground my hips against his hand. "There we go…" he didn't go for the zipper of my dress. Instead, he folded the skirt over my torso so it didn't get ruined.

"Ready?" he asked after withdrawing his hand. I groaned loudly, missing the sensation, but soon it was replaced by the tip of his erection rubbing up and down.

"Please…" I heard myself whimper, but I was too distracted by the look in his eyes through the mirror in front of us.

I felt the familiar stretching and pressure as he entered me, "Mmmm…" I groaned. He went slowly, torturously, letting that underused area of my body adjust to the very welcome intruder. "Stop torturing me…" My nails dug into the light wood of the dresser.

"As you wish…" he withdrew almost completely before slamming into me.

"Shit!" I gasped as I was pushed forward.

"Lock your elbows," he pulled me back and I did as he commanded.

I blushed a little, hearing the song. "You planned this didn't you?" he thrust into me again and didn't answer for a second. "Playing _Sex on Fire?_ Real cheesy…" I watched him loosen his tie and bring it in front of my face.

The silk covered my lips. "Open up." I don't know why, but I listened and let the silk strap invade my mouth before he tied it behind my head. "There we go…"

_What is this…?_ I didn't have time to wonder. Besides, I've never felt more turned on in my life. He was back to thrusting. The silk of the tie wasn't a very effective gag, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Each thrust sent fire through my nerves. His hands ran through my hair and I moved away. The gesture was making my scalp ache, as I remembered being dragged down a hall by my hair. His hands settled on my shoulders then ran down my back until they settled on my hips.

I felt my orgasm build slowly with each thrust. Soon enough, I wasn't just moaning his name, but nearly screaming though the silk at my mouth. My muscles were tense and my arms almost gave away as the tidal wave of released pressure ran through every inch of my body.

Peeta pulled out of me. "I don't want to make a mess of you…"

I nodded a little, only half understanding. My mind was still catching up to me.

I sunk to my knees in front of him. He reached behind to untie my gag, letting the chewed up silk fall to the ground. I took him in my hand, flicking my tongue across the head of his member.

He tasted like me and I groaned, feeling the force of his thrusts again in my mind as I took him in my mouth inch by inch. I dug my nails into his backside as payback for the tie as I licked my juices off him. It didn't take long before I tasted the warm, salty liquid on my tongue.

I pulled off him and looked up into his eyes, swallowing.

Before, if a man asked me to do that I would have laughed in their face. "Here…" he stood me up and kissed me lightly. "You're amazing…" he murmured as I fixed my skirt.

"You taste delicious," I told him, attempting to weird him out a little, but I was unsuccessful.

I packed my backpack and duffel full of clothes as Peeta made himself presentable once more. As I folded up a sundress he came behind me and braided my hair for me. At first I thought it was odd, then I felt his fingers through my hair and I almost melted again.

"Ready?" I asked, slipping my heels back on.

"I was waiting on you…" I rolled my eyes and flicked the light off. "I think I chewed a hole through your tie…" I held the dark green fabric in my hand. The edges were now frayed where my teeth bit into it, but it would be covered by his collar.

"I'm sorry, but you were ruining the moment…"

"So you gag me with a two hundred dollar tie?"

"Ahem…" I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes meeting a very amused Madge and an embarrassed looking Gale, who were sitting on the couch half way through a bottle of wine.

"Well…" I started, popping my lips. "I'm going to go throw myself in front of a bus."

* * *

**Rumor has it that is removing stories for sexual and violent content. This puts many stories (Including mine) in jeopardy of being taken down. If this happens to any of my stories I will be posting them on either Tumblr or Livejournal, but I won't jump the gun, this is my fanfiction home.**

**There is a petition going around to tell to not restrict our imaginations, a link will be posted in my profile and please please please take two minutes and sign!**

**Your signature will allow fan's and author's to unleash their imaginations without restrictions!**

**See you in chapter 8!**


	8. Sex on Fire

**Sorry for the wait everyone, but I come with presents!**

**Not only a chapter but a link to my tumblr! (Which I probably won't have to post on because the awesome Chelize, my beta for SempFi, got me an invite to Archive of Our Own where I will be posting my stories as well as here once I get around to it) ** : / / falafelwaffel . tumblr . **Remove the spaces, and enjoy! I'll be using it as a place to post both the playlist for this story (once I figure out how to use tumblr), and other nonsence. Send me a message, ask me questions… Someone teach me how to use it!**

**I'd love to thank my beta apecanin for not only fixing my terrible grammar and other general issues with English but betaing during work. I tried to submit during work but my phone yelled at me... **

**This chapter's song is Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon.**

This has to be one of the most awkward moments of my life, and yet everyone else is so calm and casual.

Gale and Peeta are chummy, discussing something business related. I don't pretend to understand. I pick up a glass of clear liquid and lean into Peeta.

"That's not…" but Madge's warning is too late. The burning vodka is already in my mouth. Not trying to make myself look like a fool, I swallow hard.

"Water?" I choke out. She grins and nods.

"So where are you two off to?" Gale asks.

"My place," Peeta says as I lean farther into him.

"Why? You two seemed pretty at home here," Gale says. Madge elbows him. "What?"

I feel the deep blush come to my cheeks. Sex, especially the sex I'm having, isn't a topic I'm ok with discussing.

"I have work in the morning… Want to come?" Peeta asks. I'm busy running my finger around the rim of the glass, trying to disappear. "Katniss?" he nudges me.

"Wha?"

"I'm only at the office until about noon…"

"Katniss? Awake before noon?" Madge says. I stick my tongue out.

"You don't want me there, remember last time? I made an ass of myself."

"Like that's something new," Madge teases.

It was Gale's turn to scold Madge.

"But really, I think I'll just study… and go to my apartment and see if I can salvage anything. If I can't, I need to see if I can expedite a passport…" I groan and lean my head back and onto Peeta's shoulder. "That's going to suck…"

"Not if you have connections," Gale shrugs. I tilt my head to look at him.

"I'm not going to pull the strings on the system. That's not fair to the rest of the people. But… I'm going to go outside." Peeta doesn't immediately let go of my hand and brings it to his lips.

"Be safe…" he murmurs. I just nod but Gale offers to go with me.

"You didn't have to do that…" I tell him, offering my lighter.

"Perhaps…" he hesitates. We smoke in silence for a few minutes...him not wanting to discuss what he had just overheard, me unwilling to discuss him and Madge.

"She's very protective over you," he finally says.

My heart skips a beat. What did she tell him?

"What did you hear?" I ask shamefully.

"Just that someone from your past called Madge and she was nervous being here by herself…"

I take a deep long drag as the guilt monster take over. "Please…" is all I manage to choke out before clearing my throat. "He doesn't have the balls to come after me here."

"She seemed really worried, even today." So telling her about me running into him outside of Cinna's was definitely out of the question.

"And sober thoughts are drunken truths…" I flick my ash and look across the street.

Even at this hour the occasional pedestrian passes by. "Besides…" the door behind us opens. "He's half way across the damn country." I flick my butt into the storm drain. "Where he can rot in hell…"

I look up and smile faintly at Peeta.

"Ready?" he asks. My bags in hand, I just nod and shift uneasily.

Would he ask questions?

000

I let my dress fall to the ground and step out of my heels. "What?" I ask, watching Peeta unbutton his shirt.

"Just, you…" I look down, realizing I'm standing in his bedroom completely naked.

I flush and cover myself with my arms as he moves to me. His finger leaves a burning hot trail along my ribs and I flush even deeper, embarrassed by my underfed body.

"I'll get you healthy…" he tells me softly. "You'll never have another hungry day…"

I fidget away, but miss his touch, so I lean my naked body against his. "Thank you…" I whisper.

"For what? It's the right thing to do…"

But that's not what I'm really thanking him for. "No, for earlier. You didn't… Coddle me or baby me. I needed it."

'I needed to lose myself in you.' I want to say.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head, "When bad things happen to us, there's a certain point where the time for empathy is past and you just need to accept it. It… it makes me livid to think that someone has hurt you before, but… I've been in your position before. I know that being babied just makes you feel worse…"

I want to press the topic but he kisses my head again and moves to the bathroom without another word.

His bathroom is so neat, so absolutely perfectly put together, nothing out of place.

"How can you live like this?" I ask, tilting up a bottle so I can read the label better.

"Like what?" he asks with his toothbrush in his mouth. I mirror his movements.

"Impeccably!" the word comes out like a garbled mess and he chuckles. A spray of toothpaste foam hits the mirror.

I watch as his brow furrows, this innocent little mishap distorting the perfection of the room. He spits into the sink and again I mirror, feeling awkward not doing the same.

He just stares at the spray on the mirror. "It's ok, Peeta…" he looks confused and I rinse out my mouth, using my arm to dry my mouth.

"Dear sweet Beast, you're king of your castle. If something gets messy… No one's there to reprimand you," his eyes go dark as I grab a wad of toilet paper and wet it to get rid of the mess.

"Peeta?" I ask, his eyes so vacant and dark. "Peeta!" I call just a little louder, my hand resting on his breast bone.

He looks so sad, so lost, my poor Beast…

I take his hands and get on my toes to kiss his lips softly. That does the trick, I smirk and get back down.

"What's that face for?" he asks after a second.

"A kiss, my lord, the most powerful thing known to man…" he lifts my hands up a little and I twirl so when my back hits his my arms are crossed over my chest, our fingers laced so tightly together, resting at my collar bones.

"Ah my sweet naive Belle, a kiss is nothing more than lips brushing up against another. It's true love's kiss that holds all the power…"

I swallow hard. Love?

"Love isn't an emotion I feel," I pull away, just wanting to be in bed. I crawl up from the foot of the bed and go to hide under the covers.

"Love isn't an emotion you feel, it's something you experience, and some day you'll know…" he pulls the covers down from my face.

"Have you ever…" I bite my lip. Why was teenage Katniss coming out to play? Where was the calm, collected and confident woman go?

"Have I ever?"

"Have you ever been in love?" I watch him think for a second.

"I don't think I have, closest would be Prim…" he flops down on his back and stares at the ceiling fan. "It's not a romantic love, but between my parents, and my brothers… I'd do anything for that kid…"

"She's not a kid anymore. She's eighteen, going to college…" he just sighs when I finish. I roll out of bed to fetch my phone from my purse.

The folded newspaper from earlier falls out, with all the aggravation earlier I had completely forgotten, "Peeta?"

He's still staring at the fan. "Yes, Belle?" Back with the nickname, but I was more ok with it now… In fact I was starting to like it.

I fold the paper over so our picture is the focus as I hand him the item. "Oh…" is all he says. "You're so beautiful when you smile…"

"Peeta," I whine. "They're… I… Ugh! It's our relationship, I don't want it to be public!" I huff.

He tosses the paper away, "Katniss, unfortunately I live in the public eye. Considering I'm twenty-nine, unmarried… I'm a very eligible bachelor,"

I climb on top of him and pin his arms above his head. "You're not a bachelor, you're in a relationship with me. Not some glamorous starlet. I don't do public. I'm a private lady."

I'm amusing him. "You are so frustrating!"

I scowl down at him, "I don't know how to do the public thing, Peeta. I know how to blend into the background and be invisible at social functions… Or say something crass that makes rich people uncomfortable and-"

"You've never been invisible…"

"Peeta… now isn't the time to charm me… I this is about you and I… The world shouldn't know."

"Why? I want them to know how perfect you are, how talented, how amazing… Katniss, I want to show you the world, and unfortunately at times the world will be watching. But that doesn't affect what we have. We're not bringing cameras into our bedroom…" He pauses and dons a cheeky grin. "Unless you want to."

I throw myself off him. "I'm not going to be your masturbatory aid, Mr. Mellark." I roll onto my stomach.

"Then get over here…"

"No, I'm frustrated," I grumble into my pillow.

He spanks me.

Not hard. Not like Cato.

In fact I enjoy it...the little singe of pain that radiates through my legs, lighting my fire.

"You're so mean to me…" I whine, rubbing my thighs together, praying the need would just go away. We needed to get to bed.

"I'll make it up to you… Tomorrow."

Sleeping is awkward with Peeta when not drunk or exhausted. We're both stomach sleepers but both need to be up against the other simply because there's a foreign body in the bed.

"Sleeping on your stomach ages your face," he grumbles in the dark. "And in your line of work your face could be everything,. Roll over." His arm is slung over my back, leg over mine.

"You have press photos to take, Mr. Mellark."

I lift up a little so his arm slips from mine. I can only just barely see his face through the inky darkness of the room. His blue eyes watch me intently.

I feel his hand locking his fingers in mine and scoot as close to him as possible. It's not the spooning that's stereotypical with couples sleeping in the same bed, but we were both too stubborn to adjust our sleeping habits.

Unfortunately, our unconscious minds shift our bodies so I'm nestled safety in his curled body. My backside against his groin, his legs tight against mine. He holds me so close to him, so firm and tight I'm sure I could never slip from his arms.

The sun is just coming up, the bedroom a cold looking grey. The only imperfections in this space are ones I've caused. My purse haphazardly thrown onto the floor with my duffle, which is erupting with clothing. My dress still lays in a heap, with my heels discarded next to it.

I was the flaw in Peeta's perfect castle. The invader.

Everything was so neat and organized, so absolutely perfect, straight and centered…

I was like a tornado came through here… How long could he stand this?

I roll over to watch him sleep, but I'm met with his clear blue eyes. "You caved…" he yawns.

"Bullshit…" I kiss his nose. "Are you ok with this?" I ask idly.

"With what?" he begins playing with my hair.

"My… My invasion, my sloppiness…"

He smiles, "If I remember correctly, Belle invaded the Beast's castle."

I nod, "To find her missing father… Then he held her captive…"

"You're not captive, my sweet Belle, you may come and go as you please."

I smile, "Does it bother you? You're so… so… neat."

He pulls me tight to him so I can't see his face, maybe it's going darker again, like in the bathroom, "It's a behavior that was learned through years of conditioning by my birth parents…"

'I've been in your position before' echoes in my mind.

"Negative reinforcement?" I ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

He stiffens. "You could say that…" he says after a minute or so. I tilt my head a little and kiss at his neck.

"I'll teach you how to be a slob, and how to be a proper New Yorker."

He groans, "And I'll teach you how to ignore cameras, and not let them affect our relationship. Because after Friday…"

Friday… Friday… Oh yeah… 'The Met'.

"You'll be radiant as the sun. I'd like it to be a night between the two of us, but Prim and Rue are going."

I exhale, realizing I had been holding my breath in the whole time. "Good, maybe they can teach me how to behave in front of a camera…"

I had less than thirty-six hours to be Katniss Everdeen. Ater Friday, I'd be Katniss Everdeen, arm candy to Peter Mellark.

I could remember about two years back...his brief, really brief relationship with Delia Cartwright, Oscar winning actress, philanthropist, all around good person. I'm not exactly sure what broke them up, in fact I don't care… much. She was used to press, the attention. Maybe it was all the pregnancy rumors whenever she put on five pounds, or engagement rumors every time she wore a different ring… Though rumor has it she is married now.

"Katniss?"

I snap back to reality. "Yes?"

"Go back to sleep, I don't have to be up for two more hours and you don't have to be up until I get home… Unless you've changed your mind and want to come entertain me…"

"If I go with you, I'll find a corner in your office and study statistics until I'm sobbing about variances and chi squared tests…"

He just shrugs and kisses the top of my head. I drape my leg across his thighs and nuzzle into him. Both stomach sleepers caved and now we cuddled like a proper couple.

The sound of crickets chirping jerks me from a sound sleep. "Pick up your phone…" Peeta groans into my ear, his hot breath on my cheek.

"That's not my phone… Those are crickets. Have you ever heard them before?"

"Yes, but that's your phone…" it keeps going and I roll over, taking it from the night stand.

Johanna Mason.

"Just this once Mellark..." I accept the call on the billionth chirp. "What…" I groan, drawing the word out unnecessarily.

"Good morning to you too princess. Want to come to kickboxing with me?"

I think about the warm bed with my warm muscular boyfriend then when he leaves the warm spot where he slept, "How about..."

"Please?"

"I can't… it's take your half-awake girlfriend to work day." I feel a warm hand slip up between my legs from my knee. Gladly, I spread my legs for him.

"That is absolute bullshit. Where does he live? I'll be there in fifteen."

There was no swaying Johanna.

A finger slips inside me and I'm too out of it to suppress the moan.

"Make it an hour…" I moan.

"Oh god… where does he live?"

I groan again. The finger has left my inside and begins to play with whatever it can reach. "Sixty-ninth and fifth, big white building. Just…"

"I'll knock on the door…"

I smirk a little and sit up, pulling away from Peeta's hand. "Good luck with that. Just call… I have to go," I look down at an adorably pouting Peeta.

"You get 'em tiger, but don't do anything I wouldn't do…"

I don't even indulge her, there is NOTHING Johanna Mason wouldn't at least try. I toss the phone to the edge of the bed and pounce on him. "You're very mean, Mr. Mellark…" I scold as he lets me straddle him.

"What are you going to do about it?" I reach for the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and tucking it over his head.

"It's a surprise," I purr, trying to channel my inner-Johanna, though by now she'd probably have the handcuffs out, among other things. "You can stop me from talking…"

I kiss right between his pectorals and he shudders, pulling the shirt down.

I pout, "You're no fun…"

He sticks his tongue out, "I don't have time for your games… Some of us have work in an hour and a half…"

I settle for inching down his boxers, ever so slowly. "You mean I can't…" I take his semi-hard shaft in my hand and lick up the length, "Tease you?"

He groans, his skilled fingers tangling in my hair, but he doesn't pull. He knows better than to pull.

I freeze, almost to shocked to continue. All I needed to do was move away once and he'd learn.

"Are you ok?" he whispers.

I smile and nod, giving him no warning as I wrap my mouth around him finishing up the job of both lubricating him and making him hard enough.

Him moaning my name and taking fistfuls of sheets made me wet enough for the both of us. Something about the way he says my name.

"Enough…" he groans and I indulge him, slowly at first but mostly for my sake. It still hurts at first, but the sensation of being stretched and filled takes over.

I've never been particularly good at being on top, but instead of griping until I cried, he helped me. His strong hands at my hips helping me move up and down, then back and forth so he could rub against all the right spots.

"You're amazing…" he groans, slamming into me, knocking me forward so I'm on his chest.

"I'm sorry!" I gasp, fearing I hurt him. Instead, he digs his fingers in my backside with enough force that each of his thrusts earn an unrestrained moan from me. I intertwine my fingers in his soft blonde curls, kissing each and every inch of exposed flesh with a fervor completely foreign to me.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck and ride out the sweet release he's given me. When my mind returns to me, after my nerves stop singing with delicious pleasure, I pick my head out of the crook of his neck and roll off Peeta, our chests heaving. "Go get ready…" I pant.

He looks defeated, post coital cuddle taking a back seat to adult responsibilities… or King of the World responsibilities which include running a company and quenching my new found thirst for sex.

He sits up and takes off his sweaty night shirt, letting it fall on my face, before leaving me to get out of my sex induced high.

I get out of bed after Peeta leaves the bathroom and get 'ready'. Use the toilet, wash my face, brush my teeth with my toothbrush. I'm half tempted to use his just to taunt him.

"So, after your 'kickboxing' and my half day… What would you like to do?" he asks and my eyes find the bed. I know what I want to do, but the truth of the matter is I'd actually like to spend more clothed time with my boyfriend.

He watches me shove my shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the bag as he ties his tie. "I've never seen you in casual clothes, do you own a pair of jeans?"

"I do…" he wears a dark grey suit, the shade lighter than charcoal but only just. "Can you go into the black box on my dresser and pick out a pair of cufflinks?"

I roll my eyes and, still naked, open his black box of shiny gold, silver and platinum. I dig through, disliking most of them. "You know, a ten cent button could do the job of-" my fingers touch a somewhat pointy groove. "Holy crap…" I lift the set out, a gold pair made out of a watch back with exposed gears.

"Forget the buttons, I'd wear a suit to wear these," I hold them out before returning to the box, rooting through it like a child through her mother's jewelry box.

"I could arrange to have a tailored suit made for you in time for Paris…" I bite my lip knowing if I say no, he's bound to do it anyway.

"You mean, 'Katniss, now that you've said this, I'll make a call the second you're not paying attention,' right?" I look up and he has his Blackberry in hand.

"You mean, while you're standing here I'm sending an email."

I roll my eyes.

"Do you want it a pant suit or a skirt?" he shakes his head as if he said something humorous.

"How about both, depending on the weather," I just sigh and actually put clothes on. I'm thankful I made the decision to bring a set of the exercise clothes Portia bought for me. Or Peeta bought for me.

I was going to be in debt to this man for a long time, "I'm going to pay you back for the clothes, and the suits, and… any more debt I accrue during our relationship."

Wrong thing to say. As he buttons his coat, he rolls his eyes, "Katniss, I want to give you the world, shower you in gifts. Let me treat you like a princess…"

I bite my lip, "I'm not a princess."

His eyes soften as he straightens his tie. "To me you are…" he says sadly.

With a chaste kiss on the lips he leaves to get breakfast for us and I pack, already formulating a plan.

I know Peeta is disappointed I won't come 'entertain' him today, but that doesn't mean I can't pop in.

I pack a black lacy number which looked like a sleeveless black dress with a high necked, long sleeved dress thrown on top of it made of a delicate lace. It only goes about mid-thigh and I'd probably pair something this length with jeans or even leggings… but who cares?

'Try to live in heels, it will make it easier in September' echoes in my head.

I throw in a regular bra, a pair of 'date night' panties and my plain black heels before leaving the room.

'Leaving now, Annie can't come, 'wedding business'.' Jo sends.

Wedding rings, 'the world's smallest handcuffs' as Jo told Annie when she announced her engagement.

"Everything ok?"

I sit at the breakfast bar and dig into a piece of toast.

"Annie, my friend, she's getting married next Saturday…" I smile a little. "I'm just amazed how fast everything changes."

I take a strawberry and bite into it, "Mmmm…" I feel the juice run down my chin, but I can't care. I haven't had a fresh strawberry in over a year.

I'm so wrapped up in my strawberry that I don't notice Peeta approach me, his strong finger tilts my chin up and he leans in.

"What are you…" his tongue drags from the bottom of my chin to my lips, tracing my bottom lip before our lips only barely touch.

"Tease…" I whisper when he backs away.

He shrugs and removes the hairband from my wrist before braiding my hair perfectly. My scalp tingles as his fingers work my hair. "Where did you learn to do this?" I ask, going for another strawberry.

"I have a little sister, you know. She used to wear her hair in two braids, and then she was 'too old'."

I smile. "You can braid my hair any time. I love when people play with my hair," I admit with a blush.

The crickets begin chirping again, "That's Jo… You get off around noon right?" I ask, slipping from the barstool.

"Probably closer to one."

Perfect.

I get on my toes and kiss him on the forehead before wiggling my socked feet into my converse, "Play nice, do whatever it is you do at work."

"Remember not to tuck your thumb while punching dear. That's how you'll break it."

000

"You're glowing…" Johanna huffs as we work on our high kicks. "Where can I find one?" she asks.

I follow the woman robotically, kicking, punching, lifting my knee, all when the class did.

Soon a thick coat of sweat covered my body and our hour of cardio was done for the day.

Unfortunately, we aren't the only women in the group showers this morning. I had to reluctantly drop my towel with a judgmental blonde and brunette staring at my small chest and boyish figure.

"I swear, the seventy year old widow next to me gets more action than I do. Whatever possessed me to take this promotion…"

"Why do you care?" I ask idly, shampooing my hair. "I thought you got a rabbit?"

"Please, that thing may be my new god. But there's nothing like the weight of a man on top of you. Or woman. Please, by now I'd take anything."

The blonde and brunette snicker a little.

"What are you looking at, tooth picks?" Johanna snaps. "When you're making six figures and working fifty hours a week then you can talk to me."

They slink back.

"I thought you were into seven figures, Jo." I say.

She puts her hand over her heart and fans herself. "Oh silly me," she sighs in an exaggerated southern accent. "How could I forget!"

"Come on Clove, the boys are waiting." The blonde sneers at me, sashaying out of the shower as if flaunting her womanly curves.

"Ugh, I hate pretty little twenty something's… I mean, besides you guys."

"Thanks Jo, I find most almost thirty something's to be intolerable. Then I see you."

She dries herself off and examines her body in a full length mirror at the end of a row of lockers. "It's thirsty Thursday. I'm getting laid. Care to be my wing woman?"

"No, I have to get my beauty sleep, I'm being taken to the Met Gala tomorrow by Prince Charming." I use the provided blow dryer to dry my hair into a flat sheet of dark straight hair.

Johanna and I go our separate ways, me to Peeta's office, her to head on the prowl for human flesh.

I earn pleanty of strange looks on the subway in my lacy mini dress and heels, though this is New York. Give them all five minutes and something more interesting will catch their eyes.

I have to send a personal thank-you to Portia, these heels look uncomfortable but they're padded just enough to keep me comfortable during the three block walk from the subway to the office building.

11:45. Hopefully I wasn't catching him at a bad time.

"Hello Miss, can I help you?" the very blonde receptionist asks. This isn't Effie, her suit is black, not some pastel or vibrant painful color.

"I'm here to see Mr. Mellark."

She huffs, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No…"

"Katniss! Darling!" I remember her from the day of the interview, Effie Trinket, personal assistant to Peter Mellark. Her color today is a pale green, almost the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "How are you?"

I smile...my savior. "I'm well Miss Trinket. Is Mr. Mellark in his office?"

"He is not, though he should be back any minute if you'd like to wait inside," she doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she pulls me back to my boyfriend's office.

"Don't tell him I'm here, or that anyone's here… I want it to be a surprise…"

She grins and leaves me alone in the large office of my Beast… or was he my Prince Charming?

I take a seat in his chair, propping my feet up on the desk so the first thing he sees when he enters is my muscular legs in these killer heels.

I check my email and text Madge and Johanna about planning Annie's Last Single Supper.

I hear his laughter first, a man telling him a somewhat crude joke. That's not Peeta's real laughter but a forced chuckle to humor the man.

"Care to prove it on the golf course? I'd go eighteen holes with you any day if it gets you to shut up."

I set my phone down on top of his mouse pad. It jostles the computer to life, revealing Peeta's background, a candid shot of him and I dancing at the party.

"From what I've heard, there's only one hole you're going to… Well..." I feel my anger surge. "Maybe three but…"

"Watch your ass. I get word of you talking like that again your ass will be on the street before noon…"

The doorknob turns and the door opens silently. "Welcome to my office," I purr, tapping my foot to an imaginary beat.

He doesn't miss a beat, slipping in even though my voice was definitely heard beyond this small space. He closes the door before anyone can approach and locks it. "How did you get in here?"

I swivel a little on his comfortable chair, "Same way as you, Mr. Mellark. I walked. And Effie escorted me. Not sure I could find this place without her."

"Not sure I could find my head sometimes without her. She may be a barrage of pastel and obnoxious colors… but damn…"

"You should unlock the door, they might think we're doing something in here…" I bite on my thumbnail a little.

"So… you come to my office dressed like that… What do you want them to think?"

"That your moderately attractive girlfriend came to visit her rather dashing boyfriend so they could get lunch when he gets off work," I smile a little. "Now, come give me a kiss, but that's it… For now."

He pouts but finally crosses the room. "I like your computer background," I say, and he cocks an eyebrow. "No I wasn't snooping, I just bumped your mouse."

He kisses my forehead, between my eyes, my nose, and finally my lips, as his hand is resting on my thigh. "Spread your legs… I want to reward you for this surprise…"

I look up into his smoldering eyes, I have no choice but to comply. Not that he's forcing me, but I crave his touch. I could never pass it up.

"Actually wearing panties…" his hand slides up, one finger dragging along the moist folds between my legs.

"Please…" I whisper before a gasp escapes as two fingers slip inside me.

"Are you sore?" he asks. His free is hand smoothing down my hair as I bury my face in his chest to drown out my soft moans.

I shake my head no into his suit jacket as he bends his finger up.

"Shhh…" he coo's. "I'm going to have to stop if you can't be quiet… And you can't bite through another of my ties…"

"Easy for you to say!" I hiss before he catches me off guard, pumping his fingers.

He presses my head to his abdomen again, letting me bury my face in his firm muscles covered by a designer suit. "Let it go baby."

His fingers are thrusting in and out of me, the heel of his hand rubs my sensitive clit every so often. It's awkward, the fact that we're in his office.

But I lose myself in his touch which wasn't a difficult task, though the constant reminding myself to be quiet made it harder and harder to actually climax.

When it finally hits me, my body jerks away from his, though his hand is there to silence me, my almost primal moan muffled by the palm of his hand.

"There we go…" he says, and I laze on his chair, my right leg finally falling to the ground limply.

"I should visit your office more often…" I grin from my less than distinguished position.

"You'll be hard to explain to my associates. If you come around too often I'd have to hire you, then there's the whole 'pay for sex' thing, and no offense, but I wouldn't hire a journalism major." I frown. "If I were to rate your talents on a scale I'd put singing at ten and business smarts at like… a two."

I smirk, "Business smarts? Really Peeta?" He childishly sticks his tongue out. "That's fine, I'd never work for a company this large anyway. I'd feel like a number."

"You'd never be a number in my eyes…" he says sadly.

"Then there's the whole 'fucking the boss thing, big no in my book."

Peeta leans across me and shuts down his computer, he sets an external hard drive in his briefcase as well as a folder full of papers.

"Please don't be upset with me, but I'm going to have to work for a few hours tonight. With us going away and the wedding I can't get behind."

I nod, "That's ok, I have to study tonight or I might fail my stat final Monday morning…"

He snaps his briefcase closed and helps me from my puddle like state up on my feet.

As we near the door I notice something. The gentile look on Peeta's face has grown stony, almost emotionless as he fiddles with his phone. Every step towards the door the playful man gives way to the stiff CEO.

I frown a little, unable to decide which one is the real Peeta, and which one is the mask.


	9. Feeling This

**Sorry for the wait! I have no excuses, except for the fact I spent three days (ish) looking at dresses for this story… You might think I'm kidding…**

**This chapter's song is **_**Feeling This**_** by Blink-182**

* * *

_This place was never the same again__  
__After you came and went__  
__How can you say you meant anything different__  
__To anyone standing alone__  
__On the street with a cigarette__  
__On the first night we met_

_Look to the past__  
__And remember her smile__  
__And maybe tonight__  
__I can breathe for awhile__  
__I'm not in the seat__  
__I think I'm fallin' asleep__  
__But then all that it means is__  
__I'll always be dreaming of you_

_Fate fell short this time__  
__Your smile fades in the summer__  
__Place your hand in mine__  
__I'll leave when I wanna_

* * *

**As always a huge thank you to my beta apecanin1.**

**I don't own the Hunger Games, or Heartbeat by Childish Gambino... Though I do listen to it on loop in the car on the way home from work.**

* * *

"Are you sure it's safe?"

I shrug and tie my converse tight on my feet, not wanting to ruin my heels. "Who knows? I just need what's in my fireproof box…" I'm clear to enter.

My door was torn down by firefighters. Since the fire came from the other side, most of my items survived. My bed was not one of them.

I hear a ringing and look back at Peeta.

"I'm sorry, it's Effie…" he says. I nod and hear him head off and the car door slam. Here I am, alone in the charred remains of my apartment.

I don't need a lot of time. I just need the box and that's it.

I hear footsteps behind me as I sift through the ashes of what was my limited wardrobe.

"Remind me to thank Portia…" I mumble, picking up half of a shoe.

"Who the fuck is Portia?" A chill runs down my skin. "And why would you leave the house like that?"

Every nerve is frozen and I try to not vomit.

"I did, Cato…" I find the box in the back of my melted shoe pile and stand up with the rough tan fireproof box. "Now, leave me alone."

He grabs my arm as I push past him, "Where do you think you're going?"

I swing all that I feel like salvaging from this place at him.

"Home, Cato. To my _home_."

I've given him too much time and he smacks me. "Shit!" I hiss and grab my face, rushing out the door.

"Katniss, baby, I'm sorry! I'm just upset! You said you'd wait for me to get back!"

I spin around. "Don't you Katniss baby me!" I hiss. "I'm not your _baby_!" My cheek stings.

"You are mine, Katniss. Don't you ever fucking forget it!"

"No!" I throw the box to the ground. "You forget it! Forget my number, forget Madge's number, forget you even know my name! And you can prowl around here all you want because I don't live here anymore!" I shout.

I've made my second mistake of the night, I square myself off to him. He shoves me to the ground.

"Katniss!" Peeta shouts as Cato's foot knocks the wind from my stomach. He then gives me another kick for good measure before he's tackled to the ground.

"Come on, sweetheart." I'm scooped off the ground while gasping for breath and laid across the back seat of Peeta's car. Before long, my box is set on the floor and my head is scooped up and rested in Peeta's lap.

My breath is still returning to me as his fingers find my hair, "He can't hurt you… I shouldn't have let you out of my sight… Please forgive me, Katniss…"

I force myself to roll over and hold his waist tightly. I can't speak yet, my words are evading me.

"We should go to the police station, press charges."

I can find one word. "NO!" I choke out. "Just please, back to your place…"

* * *

Peeta's angry with me, mostly about the refusal to press charges. I also demanded to make dinner to distract myself.

"It shouldn't bruise…" Sae holds a cold compress to my face. "Shameful man, to strike such a little thing."

I look over at Peeta, who has remained wordless this entire time. His jaw is tight, arms over his chest.

"Well… That's Cato Snow for you…" I smile faintly at Peeta before the pain in my abdomen nearly doubles me over. Peeta is neither smiling or frowning, his lips are in a tight, perfectly straight line flirting between rage and sorrow.

On top of refusing to go to the police, I had also refused to go to the hospital.

Sae has my attention once more when she jabs my painful stomach. "You should lay down," she says. I shake my head no.

"Katniss," Peeta snaps. Before he can continue, the door opens.

"What was so important that you called me _here_ on my evening off?" Heels click rapidly from the door to the kitchen. Effie's pissed.

I hold the compress to my face and swing my legs on the counter like a child. I feel like a child. "Call Snow's assistant. All our negotiations are off the table until further notice."

I had written a piece on this merger between Peeta's company and Cato's uncle's company. If they struck a deal it would mean the creation of thousands of jobs and that many people could actually _keep_ their jobs.

And he was willing to throw all of it away because of me?

"No!" I jump off the counter, wincing as my feet hit the hardwood. I dash after Peeta, who's making his way to his office, "Peeta!"

"Go lay down, Katniss!" he snaps. His shoulders are tense. Every ounce of anger and anguish from the day is held in his muscles.

"No! Peeta!" I growl as he slams the door in my face. Immediately, I start jerking on the handle.

"Miss Everdeen!" Effie snaps, grabbing my arm. I jerk away and pound on the door.

"Peter Mellark, you get out here this minute!" I shout slamming my fist on the rich dark wood.

"Miss Everdeen, mind your manners!" Effie snaps. I jiggle the knob once more just to see if maybe it unlocked and I tumble through the door.

"Much better…" I close the door behind me, locking Effie out. "Peeta, you can't do this…"

He looks at me with his angry, confused eyes. Here I was, almost eight years younger than him, telling him how to run his company.

_Because he's ruining people's lives over nothing!_ I remind myself.

"Why, Miss Everdeen?" I cringe a little. We're back to being formal, I guess. "Tell me why I should associate with someone who's family member finds it acceptable to abuse women? To control them?"

"Because!" I bite my lip, trying to compose myself. "Because if you do this, jobs will be created and families will keep their source of income. I read up on this merger, Peeta. I'm not clueless!" I snap.

I'm not sure where his rage comes from, but with a swing of his arm, most the items on his desk are sent flying.

"Then what will you have me do!" he roars. "I look away for two minutes and you're on the ground getting kicked! Then you refuse to press charges and when even now you can barely breathe without wincing, you won't get looked at!"

"I- I'm sorry…" I mumble, hugging myself.

"You're _sorry?_" he asks in disbelief. "You have no reason to be sorry. It's that bastard who should be apologizing!"

"And taking it out on his uncle and innocent people is going to do nothing!" I shout. "You can't play games with people's lives, Mr. Mellark!"

"Get out of my sight, Katniss," he growls.

"Fine!" I shout. "I'm going back to my apartment. Call me when you're done with your temper tantrum."

"Katniss… Wait…" I slam the office door behind me and head for the bedroom. He doesn't approach me as I pack my dirty clothes in the duffle. No one says a word as I pack my computer and books in my bag.

Abernathy does though offer me a ride home, which I refuse.

"Let's at least grab a smoke outside to calm your nerves."

I kick at the clean sidewalk idly. "So, you heard all that?"

"All of Manhattan heard that, sweetheart… And you're right, but Peeta will never admit it."

My phone begins buzzing. I want to ignore it, thinking it's Peeta.

I check who it is. _Madge Undersee_.

"Hey…" I grumble.

"Everything ok?"

I take a very long drag and close my eyes as my lungs burn. "No… Can you gather the troops and meet me somewhere? I need a girls night…"

"Yikes! Actually, that's why I called. We're going to Iggy's to slum it some."

Iggy's isn't 'slumming it'. Not by far. It's an upscale dive bar that actually made karaoke seem cool. Unfortunately, Katniss Everdeen doesn't sing freely without a few beers in her.

"I'm actually in the Upper East Side. When do you need me to show up?"

"Whenever, we're almost there. You should bring your Prince Charming."

I groan. "You mean my Beast? He's too busy playing chess with people's lives."

"Oh… Gale and Finnick are here."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

Haymitch grabs my bags when I hang up. "I'll drop these off at your place, sweetheart. Give Peet some time."

I clutch my bag tight to my chest. Every few seconds, I check my phone for a message from the Beast. When I get to Iggy's with no text message, I give up.

Trying to push the day out of my mind, I flop down in the spacious booth next to my other dateless friend: Johanna.

"Hey Belle darling," she kisses my cheek. "We're surrounded by happy couples. Ready to lez it up?"

I roll my eyes, but drape my arm around her shoulders, "Sure thing babycakes!"

I rest my head on her shoulder and order a gin and tonic to drown my day away.

"What's wrong with your cheek...?" Madge reaches over the table and nearly gives me fish lips.

"I got hit, and kicked… It was a weird day." Everyone's jaw drops. They think Peeta did this to me!

My drink is set before me. "It was Cato. He found me at my old place when I went back for my…" I squeeze my lime into the pine flavored drink. "Shit… I left it at Peeta's…" I chug the gin and tonic.

"What happened between you two?" Finnick asks as I finish a healthy helping of alcohol.

"Well, after Cato Snow shoved me to the ground and kicked the air out of me… Peeta was pissed that I didn't want to press charges or go to the hospital to get looked at. So he took his frustration out on Cato's uncle and is thinking of canceling their merger, or whatever it is. So I yelled at him, saying that it would ruin more than just Snow's life, and that he couldn't play games with people's lives."

"And?" Gale asks, running his finger around the rim of his glass.

"He told me to get out of his sight, and I told him to call me when he was done with his temper tantrum. Now I'm here!"

Annie sucks air in through her teeth. "Damn…" she sighed.

"And, to be honest? It's nice to have a healthy argument with someone where furniture doesn't get thrown at me, or…"

I snap my jaw shut. "Johanna, wanna sing? I feel like Iggy's hasn't heard our rendition of.. well, anything in far too long."

She beams, "But miss Everdeen, you're far too sober!"

I roll my eyes and drag her to the stage. It's still early in the night, so we know we're free to make asses of ourselves on this stage.

I manage to pump another drink into my system. It's been affectively buzzing me to perfection.

In every aspect of her life, Johanna Mason is dominant, except for when she's singing on the stage with me. Maybe it's because she's not confident on it. Our rendition of Cowboy Cassanova, though, earns a standing ovation from the crowding bar. Though, it might be mostly because of our short skirts on the elevated stage and the fact that half way through the song, Jo decided to grind up against me.

"You two are still insane." Annie declares. Another round of drinks comes by and I hold mine up.

"Cheers to never changing, Annie…" I say. She sips at her drink and rolls her eyes.

Gale and Finnick are both on their phones, brows furrowed.

"Business men, you see me fucking around with my cellphone? I'm Editor of the New York fucking Times," Johanna says.

"Is that the official title now?" Annie asks, chewing on her lime.

"Might as well be, I'm nailing the guy that writes the commitments." 'Nailing' was a Johanna-ism for sleeping with more someone than once. A rare thing for Miss Mason. "And the one that was following you and Peter around, Kat. I told him I'd fulfill one of his fantasies if he would find some other couple to hound."

"We might not even be a couple…" I shrug. Could I do that? After everything Peeta did for me, just walk out like that? Walk away? "Wait, what did you have to do?"

"Listen, sister. Don't ask, but it was good," she purrs.

Maybe someday, I would be as confident as Johanna. Until then, I would live in my own little bubble.

I look to Gale for some insight, but he's too busy typing at his phone.

"Ugh…" I grumble, nursing my fourth drink. I'm already tipsy. Drunk is next, followed by black out smashed. "How do you deal with this Madge? Annie?"

"What? Being drunk?" Madge asks innocently as we watch Jo put her moves on a well-dressed man.

"No, the phones."

"You mean Peeta wasn't on his all the time?" Gale asks, setting his upside-down phone on the table.

"No, and when he had to be on it, he either excused himself or gave me this puppy dog look…"

I sigh. "Listen, I don't want to sit here and talk about Peeta all night. I think I'm going to go home…" I set down enough money for my drinks.

"Wait! Kat!" Madge grabs my wrist. "Maybe you should sing one more song?" she smiles.

She's trying to cheer me up, but images of Peeta's anger and the bite of Cato's slap they invade my mind.

"Please?" she asks. "Gale and Finnick have barely heard you sing and we've been bragging about you all day."

She's up to something. Madge is a terrible schemer but I indulge her. "Fine, Margaret…"

I'm not exactly sober as I take the stage. I know what song I want to sing. The bar is busier now. Every seat taken, even though it's a Thursday. The overhead lights had been shut off earlier and bright ill placed spotlights shine in my eyes. NYU has me spoiled, I guess.

Awake My Soul by Mumford and Sons may have not been the most appropriate song given my glum mood, but I sure knew how to silence the whole bar and hold all of their attention.

I finish with a thunderous applause and pretend to courtesy deeply as I had on the stage the night I met Peeta. My heart stung just at the thought of him. What was he doing now?

I hop off the stage, "Alright, I'm not a trick pony. I'm going to…" my voice disappears from me when I see an actually casually dressed Peeta Mellark in my seat. "...head home."

I try not to acknowledge him. Was this being childish? Was he still angry? Was I?

Ugh! Relationships!

"Katniss, what are you doing?" Peeta calls as I walk out of the bar.

"Getting a cab, so I can get out of your sight as you requested," I snap. Yep, I was definitely still angry.

"Belle…" he murmurs. My heart stings from the sorrow in his voice. "Please, can we talk?"

A yellow cab pulls up in front of me. "Fine, get in."

Silently, we make our way into my apartment.

"You're drunk…" he sighs as I stumble to get my converse off. Wait...glass table, tile floor? _This is Peeta's,_I huff in my head. God damnit, I told the cabby the wrong address. I fight as Peeta scoops me up in his arms.

"You were bugging Gale and Finnick all night, weren't you?" I ask, poking his face.

"Ever since you walked out…" the jostling makes me queasy. The gin in my stomach is threating to make a second appearance.

I feel it, the chill takes over my body as I shove myself out of Peeta's arms and run for his bathroom. I don't bother closing the doors as my food for the day and about four gin and tonics rushes from my system.

"Shhh…" Peeta says lovingly, as he rubs my back.

"Why are you doing this?" I askw in my drunken haze.

"Because I care about you Katniss. So much. I just want to protect you…"

I wipe my face on my delicate lace sleeve as Peeta unzips me. "How's your stomach?"

"Empty…" I pant, laying down on the stark white tile. My hot cheek feels great against the cold tile. "Sore..."

I inch out of the dress like a worm and examine my abdomen.

"Bruised," I conclude before lying flat on my stomach, trying to soak up as much of the cool tile as possible.

He sits next to my head, "You were right…" he admits. "I was playing chess with people's lives. But, Belle...my sweet Belle, don't you see you are my queen?"

He sighs and strokes my sweaty hair as I basically cool myself off on his bathroom floor in my underwear. "I will continue negotiations with Snow as you asked. But I want to up security around you."

I just nod, not bothering to make sense of his words before climbing back up to the toilet.

Now I remember why I don't drink gin.

* * *

The Met Gala is the Oscars for fashion… Or at least that's what Cinna tells me when I'm pulled from bed at two in the afternoon. Peeta forces lunch into my face before my shower.

"You don't have to do this," I yawn, picking apart my sandwich. "I've been hung over before. This isn't even a hangover, it's more like a lean over."

Peeta rolls his eyes.

"I spoke to Gale. Madge was worried when she came home and you weren't there…" he says.

I nod and bite into the bread, choosing to eat my food layer by layer. First bread, then fixings, then cheese and meat. Peeta makes yet another face.

"So what am I wearing? Or is it a big secret?" Cinna and the 'prep team' as he calls them have bogarted the bedroom. Every few minutes, someone pokes their head out to ask if I'm done stuffing my face.

"Big secret. Even I don't know… But you should get ready. Prim and Rue will be here in a few to get ready and I'm sure you don't want to be naked…" he states. I cross my legs and pull the t-shirt down to actually cover my bottom half.

* * *

I wobble a little on my heals, almost knocking poor Venia to the ground twice as I'm zipped into my gown. It is gorgeous. It's cut to show my collar bones and tight down to my thighs, where the brilliant gold bodice gave way to a creamy tulle.

I have watched enough 'Say Yes to the Dress' to know this was a Mermaid style gown. Right along the hem, intricate gold designs climbed up the tulle. They look like small gold flames licking at my feet when I walk.

"Beautiful…" Cinna helps me spin.

"Well… That'll only get me so far. I've seen what press does to people at these things. I have to get people to like me… How do I get people to like me?"

Cinna chuckles and touches up my gold eye shadow, "Well, I like you, and you were yourself when you met me, no?"

"I was…" I look at myself in the mirror. I look like I'm draped in gold. Is that too pretentious?

Was I basically saying was 'Hello world! I'm dating one of the richest men in the country!'. My stomach turned. I'm definitely not drinking tonight.

Cinna escorts me to the door as I take my phone and ID off of the dresser. Peeta would be carrying them. "I present to you, Mademoiselle Katniss Everdeen…" he says once we were out of the room.

Rue and Prim had been finished ages ago, not needing the coercion that I did to get fake eyelashes put on. I attempt to courtesy, but stick with a modest stage bow.

Peeta approaches me slowly, pulling a delicate gold bracelet from his pocket. "For you…"

I offer my left hand and he slips it on. It was a chain of gold clasped together with a tiny heart-shaped padlock. _Tiffany and Co._ was etched into the face of it. "You're stunning, Belle," he says.

I don't have to get on my toes to kiss him. His lips are so sweet and tender as he pulls me to him. I love the way his body fits so perfectly around mine.

"Ew…" Rue starts. "Guys seriously, save it for tonight when Prim and I are long gone in the Hamptons…"

"Please, Peeta's taking Katniss out there to woo her," Prim fake swoons.

"Primrose," Peeta scolds. "We're past the wooing."

I look at the bracelet. "No, I'm pretty sure you're still trying to woo me."

* * *

I fidget through the whole limo ride to the Met.

"You can do this…" Peeta whispers as I play with the bracelet he gave me.

"Once they know my name I won't be a nobody. I'll be your girlfriend."

He nods, "Many women will be jealous…" He rests his head on my shoulder. _Cocky bastard…_

Rue and Prim are the first out of the limo, leaving me time to prep myself for this.

_Don't fall… Whatever you do, don't fall…_ Peeta slides out and offers me his hand.

"You can do this, Belle. I'll keep you safe…" I take his hand, instilling my trust in Peeta Mellark.

I wince at first at the flashes, but soon they're nothing more than stage lights to me.

"Look just over them, you will look confident and it will save your eyes," Cinna whispers. Him and Peeta's personal shopper, Portia are quick behind us.

"Miss! Miss!" reporters shout, trying to get my attention. "What is your name?"

I look up at Peeta and take a deep breath. G_oodbye, quiet life_. "Katniss Everdeen," I tell one woman.

We pose for pictures, both as a couple and individually. By the time we're half way down the carpet, people are shouting my name. They want my attention. Just my smile is all they need.

I try to remain calm as Jessica Alba saunters by, no more than three feet from me.

_Holy fuck!_

I don't ask Peeta the price for the tickets to this event. Prim, Rue, him and I are seated with Cinna and Portia who gush in French with some designer I have never heard of.

I sip at my pink champagne, nodding and smiling when social cues deem it appropriate.

"Everything ok?" Peeta asks quietly, probably noting my robotic responses.

"I don't speak French…" I blush a little.

He tilts my chin up, our lips finding one another. "I will teach you," he whispers.

"Go to Paris with me…" I whisper as our dinner is set in front of us.

"Of course…" he smiles, kissing me lightly.

I'm told that when Peeta twirled me on the dance floor, it looked like my skirt was on fire.

"It's Cinna, he's a genius," I gush before Peeta pulls me back. A few notes from a piano over the speaker and I place the song immediately.

"We're going to go," Prim and Rue tell us. "Abernathy will drive us out to mom and dads, see you in the morning!"

What a fitting song to leave to. Heartbeat by Childish Gambino. The first line saying, _'I wanted you to know that I am ready to go.'_

I have been so stiff the whole night, so out of place. I decide to let myself go.

My is back pressed against my boyfriend and I let the music flow through me. His hands travel from my shoulders down to my hips where they rest as I tastefully grind my backside against him.

I turn around toward the end of the song, "Ayo, fuck this. Are we dating? Are we fucking?" I ask. "Are we best friends, are we something in between that?"

He looks at me curiously as I sing along to the end of the song. "I wish we never fucked and I mean that," I grasp his tie and pull him in. "But not really, because you say the nastiest shit in bed. And that's fucking awesome." The song ends and I pull his lips to mine.

"Oh Miss Everdeen, what am I to do with you?" he asks. I can think of a few things. "But we should head out, we have to drive two hours after this."

I say good bye to Cinna and Portia, who were still wrapped up in their conversation with others. Cinna, though, stops and pulls me to him when we pass by. "And this lovely lady is the face of my brand, Katniss Everdeen. She will be in Paris with me when I return for a few days…"

An older woman with a high hairline sighs contently, "You will love Paris! The men… Gorgeous!"

I scramble to find Peeta's hand, "I think _he_ might get jealous…"

When we arrive back at the penthouse, the silky fabric of my gown falls to the ground like a puddle of melted gold.

"How sober are you?" Peeta asks idly as he changes from his tux to a dark pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Very, I had that one glass of champagne… Why?" I pull on the clothes left out on the bed for me. "Wait, where are my bags?" I ask franticly.

"Haymitch is bringing them to my place up in the Hampton's. We won't be able to carry them," he tosses a well-fitting leather jacket at me as I tie my converse.

"Wait… What?"

We ride the elevator down past the lobby into the garage. Parked next to a very fun looking Audi is a sleek black motorcycle.

"This is what you mean by not being able to bring our own bags…" I zip my coat up and gulp. I've never been on one of these before. "Can you even drive this?"

He grins and hands me a black helmet, "Very well, Miss Everdeen. Now, you're going to have to hold on."

I'm awkward for a second on the bike as it roars to life, my feet perched on the steel posts. I hold onto Peeta loosely but the second he moves, I'm tight on him.

There's something oddly sexual about this and I can't help but feel like this is his plan.

"You ok back there?" He asks at a red light, just before the Queens Midtown Tunnel.

"Yeah…" I rest my head against the leather of his jacket as a Camaro pulls up next to us.

The two men in it hoot and holler, challenging Peeta to a race. "Peeta…" I caution.

"End of the tunnel!" Peeta shouts back at them. "Hold on, babe, and put your thighs into it."

I do as I'm told, holding on for dear life as he takes off, rounding the corner and descending underground. The black car is not far behind.

Over the echo of the engine, I hear his laughter. Pure joy practically falls from the stuffy business man. The angry master of puppets I saw yesterday is completely gone.

Though it's a no passing zone, the Camaro takes advantage of the empty tunnel and flies past, killing Peeta's buzz only for a second before we go faster.

It's a rush I've never felt before. My body is pressed against Peeta as we speed under the East River. He isn't about to surrender now.

The left lane is vacant as far as I can see over his shoulder, but the right is plugged up by one slow moving car. Somehow, by the grace of some deity, we sneak in front of the Camaro just as the tunnel ends and we're off into the open highway, the loser left in our dust cloud.

The house is dark when we get there, a beautiful French style Chateau backing up to the beach.

"How was that?" he asks, taking off his dark helmet and running his hand through his sweaty hair as the garage door closes behind us.

The lights turned on the second the door opened. It's less of a garage I know, full of lawn mowers and yard tools, and more of a stark white work room.

"Fuck me…" I pant as I climb off. "Now," I unzip my leather coat and it falls to the ground.

"Your wish is my command…" he lifts off my t-shirt and throws it to the ground with our jackets.

When I finally have his shirt off, I run my hands over his muscles, down from his pecs to his abs before undoing the button and zipper of his jeans.

"Come here…" he lifts me off the ground when we're both nude and seats me on the cool surface of the workbench.

"What are you… Oh god-" with one leg over his shoulder, the other foot on the edge of the bench, I almost melt as his tongue laps at my arousal. "Fuck…" I moan, feeling one finger enter me as his tongue teases my sensitive clit.

Rapidly, I climb closer and closer to my orgasm. When I think I can't last any longer, he pulls completely out.

"Wait… wha…" Peeta chuckles at my confusion before helping me to the ground and turning me around.

"I like teasing you…" he coo's, running a gentle hand down my spine before crashing into me. "You're so tight…" he moans, while pounding into me.

I feel my inner Johanna bubble to the surface, "You like?"

He spanks me lightly, rubbing the spot before doing it again, "Babe, I fucking _love_ it."

The sound of our slapping skin and moans echo through the garage as we reach our climaxes, his hand reaching around to play with me as his thrusts become more savage.

"Oh… Fuck Peeta!" I moan just as my mind erupts.

He cleans himself off with my shirt then uses the fabric to wipe my thighs clean of our sex while I pull his dark t-shirt over my head.

We walk to the house barefoot, him in his jeans, me in his shirt carrying our underwear and jackets.

He takes my hand and leads me upstairs, just as a door opens and two eighteen year olds with a 'We caught you' look on their faces scrutinize us.

We run for the master bedroom, laughing like fiends.

* * *

**The picture I used for Katniss' dress will be posted on my tumblr. Yay! See you in chapter 10!**


	10. The Golden Age

**Sorry about the wait, I was kind of nervous and a little discouraged when fics started getting nuked... But what can I do about it?**

**Oh yeah, post on AO3 under the username Falafel_waffel, also tumblr... Same username!**

**If for any reason this story gets deleted it will be found on AO3 as soon as I can get it up!**

**Today's song is _The Golden Age_ by The Asteroid Galaxy Tour.**

**I don't own The Hunger Games, though... After today I can say I've seen the movie five times, I might be an addict.**

**Thank you Apecanin1 for being an epic beta. :D**

* * *

_Peeta_

She was strange, Katniss Everdeen… Everything about her drew me to her. Though normally, I wouldn't give someone like her a second glance… She barely fit in inside my world full of golden colored blondes with blue eyes with her storm grey eyes and black hair.

Maybe that's what drew me to her, a change from the human Barbies my mother liked to throw at me. But she was so much more…

Her voice, oh God her voice… Even when she wasn't singing, it was like music… and her laughter.

Beautiful and sweet, like a songbird. My songbird.

Even when I saw her that night on stage, I knew I had to well… Know her.

Though it was next to impossible, Katniss Everdeen knew how to not leave much of a paper trail. Her school tuition was paid for on several scholarships and what wasn't went to an address down in Florida. Everything else was all cash.

This seemed absurd until I saw what she did to earn money.

I knew I had to get her out of that position, away from that sorry excuse of a person Cray. But nothing has been simple since we ran into each other at the benefit.

Everything I have done since that point has been for this damned girl. This awkward and outspoken little thing I feel charged with protecting.

And I failed, but she refused to press charges so when I retaliated the only way I knew how… she yelled.

Oh did she yell! Her! Eight years my junior, telling me how to run MY company? No one yells at Peter Mellark, except, apparently, for Katniss Everdeen… So I listened to her.

She bends over to pick up her bag, each limb moving as a unit, perfect and graceful. "Are you watching me?" she teases while dressing. This girl had little to no fashion sense, it was almost a gift that her apartment burned to the ground along with her, as she said, limited wardrobe of dark t-shirts and jeans. Not only that, but she was out of that terrible neighborhood.

She was so strange, so out of place in my house… Those stormy grey eyes studying everything just as they had at the Masquerade, just as they had in my office. Each step she took deeper into my world, those more those stormy eyes darted, taking everything in. Each step she took further into my world, though, the more she drew me out of it.

"Of course… You have lovely legs. Maybe some weekend you could stay over, I'll dismiss the housekeeper and Abernathy for the weekend and you could just walk around my place naked."

She scowls. It's so natural for her, it seems. I have to wonder if she even knows she's doing it. "Perhaps, but only if you join me."

Katniss Everdeen was about the most absurd and unpredictable creatures I have ever met, and I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

00

_Katniss_

"So how fast were we going last night?" I ask, trying to drum up conversation.

Peeta and I got a late start and now had the house to ourselves, though apparently we were expecting his mother. I'm meeting the boyfriend's parents after not even a week of dating. With Cato, I've never even met his family. Though, to be fair, he's never met mine.

_Ugh, mom… I should call her; at least pretend we're a functional family…_

I stab at another berry. Peeta, or the housekeeper…definitely the housekeeper, had a pound waiting on the counter when we woke up and I was already almost finished with it. "Do you really want to know?"

I pop the berry in my mouth and slide the fork out, the prongs sliding between my teeth loudly. "Mister Mellark," I coo after swallowing. "I am a _very_ busy woman," I tell him in an exaggerated voice. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know…"

My near exact quotation of what Peeta had said to me on our lunch 'date' only earned a cocked eyebrow as the security system dinged, letting us know someone had entered the house. "About one twenty… I could have gotten her to about one sixty, Ducati's are…"

"Peter Mellark, you did not!" I look up from my bowl of berry stems. A tall, slender blond with a gaunt face that was most likely altered by at least Botox or maybe some fillers had walked in.

"I thought that was Prim…" Peeta's gone from being loose and relaxed to stiff just like he had in his office.

_Stiff and uncomfortable… Hmm…_

"Katniss, this is my mother…"

The woman pushes Peeta closer to the table to shake my hand. "Abigail Mellark, my daughter has told me so much about you… My son on the other hand…"

"It's quite alright, it's a pleasure," I smiled.

"Are you two coming to the garden party tonight? Everyone's coming," she sits next to me and delicately bites into a berry.

Peeta looks at me for an answer before sighing, "We'll be there, seven?"

The security system pings again. A voice followed. "No, I'm telling you, biggest cans I've ever seen; she had a body that was fiiiine."

"Do all the ladies fancy your brother?" I ask Peeta.

"Nah. He's just, well… Andrew," he sighed.

"Ah, there are your siblings! We're in the kitchen!" Peeta's mother calls.

"I swear, your bullshit is going to cost me an election someday," his brother says, while walking into the kitchen.

I sip at my coffee, "When he turns up missing we'll know who to ask first." I set the mug down immediately, regretting opening my mouth. I clear my throat, "I'm Katniss by the way."

One awkward brunch later and I was ready to get on the beach, or attempt to. I had a lot of studying to do, or at least I told myself that.

Somehow, I was coerced into donning a black bikini and pulled from the now quiet house into the noise of the Mellark family.

Abigail had left about an hour ago to prepare for whatever a garden party was, which was a relief. I was so afraid of her bad side.

Walking down the wooden stairs to the beach, all I could see was dark blue water and a very long but well-kept dock where a very large boat and a few jet-skis sit tied off.

"How deep is the water at the end?" I ask, digging my bare feet into the white sand.

"Twenty or so feet… why?" Peeta says. I grin and pull off my tank top running down to the dock.

So much for studying.

When I get to the end I launch off, diving into the deep blue water. I love swimming, swimming was freedom.

I don't know how deep I let myself sink before I rose to the surface, "How was that?" The water is still cool, my skin turning to gooseflesh the second I hit the water.

"A little cold…" I take in a deep breath and let my air filled lungs tip me on my back. "Can I take a jet ski out?"

"Do you know how to drive one?" Peeta sits on the edge of the dock, his feet barely hitting the water.

"Is it anything like a snowmobile? We used those to cross to the islands up where I'm from in the winter," I swim over to the edge of the dock. "Can you swim?" He just nods before I take his arm and pull him in with me.

The water overtakes me as I let myself sink. Down, down, down until my lungs burn and I float up.

"Oh you're in so much trouble Miss Everdeen," he lunges for me but I dive under again, swimming back to the shore. I've always been more comfortable swimming under the water, deep down right above the sandy bottom until the waves lap at my back, pushing sand in my bathing suit. I surface, running from the firm wet sand and somehow tripping on my own feet.

"Gotcha!" I'm flipped onto my back and Peeta crawls up me, even though his siblings and Rue's watchful eyes are on us. He kisses me deeply, his hands on either side of me so his weight isn't on me. We never do get on the jet-ski's.

I was told while getting ready that a Garden Party was casual but still very stuffy. Very not me.

"Is this appropriate?" I ask, emerging from the bathroom in a very plain white dress with a crochet pattern at the bottom. I strapped a thick brown leather belt around my waist and spun around slowly.

"Perfect," Peeta says. I smile and drink him in. We were a matching set. Me in my white crochet dress, him in a white button up with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. For the first time since meeting Peeta Mellark, his shirt wasn't tucked in.

"You're not half bad yourself," I tell him while slipping the gold bracelet on my wrist and putting my choker in place.

I imagined when Mrs. Mellark said everyone was coming I would be rubbing elbows with the Hampton's finest. For once in my life, my assumption was right.

Seated in her beautiful fairy garden at tables covered in perfect white linen were millionaires, politicians, even an actor or two.

"Is your dad here?" I ask, clinging to my boyfriend's hand as he helped navigate me through the sea of rich strangers.

Peeta chuckles, "No, my dad doesn't come to mother's parties. He's up at the house though…"

I nod, "So he's like the Great Gatsby? Lavish parties at his house and he just sits up at home enjoying some scotch?"

"Actually yes, Miss Everdeen."

People kiss my cheeks left and right, telling me they loved my gown the night before. Every person who asked who designed it was shocked that I would wear such an unknown designer, but promised to check his work out after seeing what he put me in.

_I'm the face of his business…_ I remind myself throughout the night.

Peeta's distracted by some business partner when I walk off to explore the garden more. I'm surrounded by bushes and trees lit by white Christmas lights which only make Mrs. Mellark's colorful garden shine. I give into one of my many weaknesses - the sweet, grounding bite of a cigarette.

I face away, studying the statue before me…a beautiful angel, her arms open, palms facing out.

"So…" my blood runs cold when I hear his voice. A hand snakes around my waist, another covers my mouth, "You won't make a scene will you?"

I shake my head no and when Cato shoves me from him, I stumble on my heels, catching myself on the tall statue. "Why are you here?" I ask.

When we were dating, I wasn't allowed to look him in the eye. Today, I chose to let his dark brown eyes meet my grey ones. It was a sign of defiance before, but now a sign of my freedom. "Uncle has a house here; everyone who is anyone is here, Katniss."

I snort and cross my arms over my chest, still refusing to break eye contact with him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Defiant little bitch… I should put you in your place right here, but I don't want to make a scene…" he picks a bud, a tight pink peony which he tucks in my loose hair. "It would be a shame…"

I cringe away from his touch, unable to move, "What would be?"

"If something was to happen to your little beau, or maybe even his little sister. She's so innocent really…" he pats my cheek twice before walking away. I can't move for a good minute or so before a bit of hot ash falls on my hand.

"There you are!" _Peeta… Oh shit!_ I try to compose myself, what would Cato do to him? To Prim?

I force a smile. Could he see through me?

"Sorry, I was admiring your mother's garden," I take a drag. "And polluting it…"

He rolls his eyes and kisses me on the forehead. Cato couldn't hurt him? Could he? No… I refuse to believe it!

"You bolted from the party the first chance you could," he chuckles. "I like the flower…"

My hand shoots up to my hair and I rip the tainted bud from my hair and throw it to the ground stomping both it and my cigarette.

"Woah… You ok?" he asks.

"I'm fine Peeta, it's nothing… Just, can we go? This isn't really my scene…"

Do I tell him about Cato's threat?

"Then let's go find your scene, Belle," he takes my hand and instead of leading me back to the party we head straight across the way to his home.

00

I don't know how it happened. It would be a victory if I had coerced Peeta into a place like this but here we were, inside of a dive bar still dressed in Garden Party Chic which was making it really difficult to play pool.

"Should I break?"

Peeta doesn't respond at first, he kept racking the balls as I, not so like a lady, chugged a Budweiser. I had a few glasses of champagne earlier so it was taking a while for the buzz to hit me; instead I just enjoyed the questionable music.

"Peeta?" I chalk my cue. "What will you do for me when I win? I'm thinking I'll bring out the handcuffs…" This gets his attention, just as I blow excess chalk from my cue as I begin humming _Made in America_ by Toby Keith.

"And if I win, I'm going to tie you down to the bed until you beg for me to let you cum," he removes the rack and coolly walks around to the side of the table I'm at. "Besides, you don't have handcuffs," he bends over and effortlessly breaks, sinking a solid. His second shot, though, is not so lucky. "Your shot Belle."

I'm still gawking at him, but make quick work of not one but two stripes.

"I'm not going to go easy on you…" I take another sip and wait for him to go. The bar is definitely the local drinking hole and in our pretty white clothing, we stand out like a sore thumb. Nervously, I tug my skirt down a little and pull up the top of my dress, accomplishing nothing but keeping my hands busy.

I watch him sink another solid and move the eight ball to block a pocket where three easy shots of mine could be sunk. "You're an evil man Peter Mellark…" When I walk to take my shot, I run my fingers along his chest as I sit up on the table to shoot behind my back. I cross my legs to protect my underwear from view and arch my back. I bite my lip and try to line up my shot, tapping the cue ball, sinking the nine.

"And you're putting on a show…" he grumbles as I hop off the table backing up a little to bend over, my backside rubbing against his groin. Public displays of affection weren't my forte, but toying with Peeta was quickly becoming my specialty. "Katniss…" he scolds.

"Oh shut up Peeta, you're distracting me…" I bring my cue back and unfortunately miss.

We play like this - not so innocent brushes of the hand, hooded gazes and even stolen kisses until we're both down to the eight ball.

"This is so mine…" I tease, lining up my shot. It's easy. "Eight ball, corner pocket."

I bring back the cue and tap the ball. "Too hard…" I stick out my tongue and watch the eight ball sink into the pocket, followed by the cue. I had just lost on a technicality.

"Oh fuck me…" I grumble as Peeta wanders off. After I put our cues back, he hands me his coat.

"Tabs settled, let's go."

My jaw drops. He was serious! Somehow, I prologue my tying up and convince him to not wake up poor Abernathy and walk the half mile back to his house. Our fingers lace together as we walk, his eyes fixated on our target, mine on the twinkling of lightning bugs up in the leaves of the trees.

"It looks like stars…" I look up at my boyfriend and pull him into what looks like a small path cutting into the tree line. The sound of waves crashing echoes through the small patch of forest. For a town full of yuppies and fishermen, this spot is gorgeous under the light of a full moon.

We never do make it to the tying up part of Peeta's winnings. I shrug off the jacket and lay it down in a clearing surrounded by the twinkling fireflies as confident fingers slide down the zipper of my dress and I let the leather belt fall. When the white fabric is at my feet, the next thing to go is my bra.

"You have too many clothes on," I tease as I pop the buttons of his shirt torturously slow while he hurries to get his pants down.

It's beautiful, very hurried and completely without foreplay but as our sweaty bodies collide under the full moon and tiny green stars of fireflies searching for their own mate, I feel compelled to cry at the perfection of this moment. I hold in my tears though, not willing to ruin it.

We're chest to chest, tongues intertwining and wrestling for dominance. My nails scrape down his back. He supports his weight on his elbows, his free hands stroking my cheek as I feel my climax build. It's rapid, like a coil springing free. We've remained quiet until that point, our mouths muffling the moans. But soon my head jerks back and freely, for all of the Hamptons to hear I moan his name just as I fall apart at the seams.


	11. A Blissful Goodbye

First and foremost, let me apologize for not having a chapter for you. I'll be the first to admit the recent deletions of Synchronicity, Two Wrongs, and Strung Up in the Air have left me completely discouraged. Whenever I try to write I can't help but think 'what if this gets my fic deleted'. Instead of waiting for the end I'm going to be proactive.

I've made the decision to leave behind. This will most likely be my last update on this website. At first I was planning on editing my fics to make them adhere to the guidelines, but honestly I see nothing wrong in what I have written, but more importantly I won't give in to mindless censorship.

I will still be updating Semper Fidelis and Beast and His Belle on tumblr and AO3.

Tumblr: falafelwaffel (ledot) tumblr (ledot) com

AO3: : / / archiveofourown (ledot) org / users / Falafel_Waffel

I hate that it's come to this. I've been browsing fanfiction since I was in middle school, I've written for several fandoms under several pennames and loved every minute of it. Writing is one of my favorite hobbies and I love that I can share my ideas with so many of you, and I still will but not here.

Because both sites don't have email updates (The only thing going for fanfiction right now), the epicmazing Chelzie has set me up email lists!

Here are the links for people to sign up to receive updates:

Semper Fidelis: : / / eepurl (ledo) com / m58Ir

Beast & His Belle: : / / eepurl (ledot) com / m59Pz

If they want updates on both stories, then they need to sign up for both lists.

I'm also willing to accommodate anyone who is unwilling to follow me elsewhere, though not by censoring my stories.

I will be leaving this warning up for a day or so, and my stories will remain here until takes them down.

I hope to see you on Tumblr or AO3, but until then, I want to thank you all for being so amazing. I love your reviews, all your favorites and alerts. I've been introduced to so many new fics by them because I try and check out everyone who reviews and alert/ favorites me though I can't always message because most of my ff management is done on my phone and that gets waaaay complicated.

Again, thank you for being amazing!

Falafel Waffel

(and the many other writers on ff doing the same thing) 3


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